


Fifth Time's The Charm

by GayFandomShipper123



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - People Know About The Supernatural, Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/F, F/M, Forced Pregnancy, Hurt/Comfort, Infanticide, Lots of Angst, M/M, Malia's name is Hale, Mentions of self-harm, Mpreg, Nearly Everyone is Gay, Not Tate, Original Character(s), Pack Feels, Pack Mother Stiles Stilinski, Panic Attacks, Rape, Scars, Scott has depression, Scott needs a damn hug, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Suicidal Thoughts, The Dread Doctors are fucking evil, Theo is a Little Shit, ain't about that hetero life, but also lots of fluff, but he's a really good friend, seriously though stay safe guys, set after season 6b, there are potential triggers, warning you now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-05-27 21:22:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 40,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15033593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GayFandomShipper123/pseuds/GayFandomShipper123
Summary: Scott McCall had been in love four times in his life, and one way or another, every single one of them had left him. Four times he was unlucky, but will the fifth time be the charm?Main pairings are Scott and the original character, Sterek, and ThiamEnjoy, and feel free to leave comments!





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for potential triggers for panic attacks, suicidal thoughts, and depression. Stay safe guys xx

**Scott's POV**

Scott McCall had been in love four times in his life, and one way or another, every single one of them had left him.

His first love had been Allison Argent. It was the perfect Romeo and Juliet story. Their love had burned so strongly and survived many trials and tribulations: the disapproval of Allison's parents, her aunt Kate's arrival in Beacon Hills, Peter Hale’s 'psychotic alpha’ phase, Gerard's arrival and his vendetta against werewolves, the whole business with the kanima.

His status as a newly bitten werewolf notwithstanding, it had been ‘puppy love', something pure and innocent in a time when everything was unsure, dangerous, and scary. In the end, though, they grew apart and ended their relationship, learning how to function as friends and fighting together against the Darach and the Alpha Pack, and then the Oni and the Nogitsune, but ultimately Scott had failed to keep her safe and she had died in the battle with the Nogitsune to rescue Lydia.

The next person to claim Scott McCall's heart had been Isaac Lahey, with his chiselled bone structure, his crystal blue eyes, and his smile that made Scott's legs feel like jelly and butterflies flutter in his tummy. This one had taken Scott by surprise. Isaac had gone from human, to Derek's beta and his enemy, to grudging ally, to friend and living with him and his mum. It had been very difficult for Scott to recognise and accept his feelings for Isaac. It was hard enough to deal with being a Latino-American teenager (which in and of itself was struggle enough with some people in the world) with an alcoholic father that had ended up abandoning him and his mum, then becoming a werewolf, then becoming a True Alpha at the same time as his unexpected crush on a boy. He struggled to acceptance his bisexuality because he thought that it would be just another thing to make him different than everybody else, more of a _freak_.

Isaac had been so patient with him, so wonderful and caring. When he had finally coaxed Scott into confessing his feelings to him, he had taken Scott's shaking hands in his, wiped away his fearful and ashamed tears, and hugged him. He had then taken the focus off of Scott's internal struggle to make him feel less like he was under a spotlight by opening up himself and recounting for Scott what it had been like for him growing up. He spoke candidly about life with his abusive father, how he was beaten and bruised, insulted and emotionally traumatised, and despite all that, how he had grieved over the man’s death, because he had still been his father after all. With tears in his eyes, he had explained to Scott how, through all of these awful things that had happened to him, all of these things that made him feel ostracised and different and sometimes ashamed of himself, he had survived them all and was there to look back on them, stronger and wiser; and that was a victory in its own right. He had then kissed Scott so tenderly and gently and told him that he had nothing to be ashamed of, not his bisexuality, nor his difficulties in coming to terms with it.

That moment, that had been when he'd realised how incredibly in love with Isaac he was, and he was surprised more than anything in that moment by how good it felt in his heart. So he had stopped questioning it and had let himself bask in the warmth of the love he and Isaac had shared.

Scott wished more than anything that it had not taken him so long to just let himself love Isaac and accept that Isaac loved him back, because then they might have had more time together, maybe even forever together, but after Allison's death, Isaac had had too many ghosts of his past in Beacon Hills and he had had to leave. Scott hadn't begrudged Isaac leaving, he’d understood why he felt like he had to escape, but Isaac's departure, on top of Allison's death, had shattered him into itty-bitty pieces. He'd cried for days, he didn't think he'd be loved again.

But then Kira Yukimura entered the picture, with her innocent naivety, endearing clumsiness, and complete bad-assery with a sword; the kitsune had been a soothing balm for his still-healing heart. Their relationship had made him feel relaxed and safe, even if they were in incredible danger (which, being in Beacon Hills, they almost certainly were at any given time). Fighting against the Nogitsune with them, then against the assassins benefiting from the dead pool, and then against the Dread Doctors and Theo's Chimera pack, sending Theo Raeken to Hell with her sword before the Skinwalkers had taken her with them so she could learn to control her powers, before the kitsune spirit controlled her completely. And thus, the third person Scott had fallen in love with had been snatched away from him.

Theo had, of course, been released from Hell by Liam. He had earned his forgiveness and acceptance into the pack by fighting with them against the Ghost Riders and the Anuk-Ite and the hunters. He had softened and whilst he may still be surly, moody, and snarky, he had fallen for Liam, and their relationship had changed him for the better. Corey had also become a member of the pack, and was very happy with his new friends and his loving boyfriend, Mason Hewitt.

Malia had come next in Scott's short list of romantic relationships. Their relationship had blossomed during their struggle with the hunters. Scoot was in awe of how she had progressed from a wild werecoyote with no concept of human interaction to a woman who... still struggled with human interaction and could be sometimes very brash and brutally honest, but had adapted to life among humans, found her birth father, and with hard studying, had comfortably graduated high school despite having been a coyote for nine years. After the Anuk-Ite had been defeated, Scott had been hopeful that he would at last get the chance to have a comfortable, lasting relationship with a person that he loved, but no such luck.

A month or so after the danger had passed and Beacon Hills had gained blissful peace and quiet, Stiles's magical boundary spells had pinged, indicating that a supernatural presence had come to Beacon Hills.

This presence walking down the middle of the road, was Kira. Scott experienced a whirlwind of emotions in that moment; happiness that Kira was free from the Skinwalkers, fear at what Malia would think and potentially do because of his ex-girlfriend's return, fear that Kira would feel betrayed that he had started dating Malia. All these emotions turned to sadness and shock, however, when Kira froze facing them from down the road, and Malia had tearily turned to him and said “I’m sorry, Scott. Please forgive me.” before she and Kira had charged towards each other, and Scott thought they were about to attack each other. Scott's yell of fright died on his tongue when they launched themselves at each other and collided into a fierce hug, kissing passionately in a lovers' embrace.

Scott wanted to be unable to forgive them, he wanted to hate them and resent them, but he couldn't. Sure, it broke his heart, but how could he deny happiness to two people who were searching for the same true love he was searching for, and had found it in each other?

So, Scott was alone, and had crippling abandonment issues. He'd thought that werewolves would be immune to mental illnesses like depression because depression was caused when inadequate levels of endorphins were being released from the brain leading to low levels of serotonin in the body. It was a chemical imbalance, so he figured that his werewolf healing ability would make it impossible, and he suffered in silence.

*****

Scott, as always, was determined to shoulder his own problems so as not to burden anyone else with his issues but the pack had still found out; all because the pack had returned to the rebuilt Hale House (where the pack all lived together) from a sextuple date to find him at the bottom of five bottles of wolfsbane-tainted scotch, staring drunkenly into the barrel of a gun loaded with wolfsbane bullets that he'd stolen from Chris Argent.

_“Scotty?” Stiles whispered, as they approached slowly and cautiously, like he was a cornered wild animal, which he supposed he was. “W-What are you doing with that, buddy?”_

_“Thinking.” Scott slurred, not looking at him._

_He could hear Liam talking in frantic whispers into his mobile phone, Deaton's voice at the other end._

_“What about?” Theo asked, uncharacteristically sensitively, sitting carefully opposite him on the couch, his eyes glued to the pistol in Scott's hand, still pointed between his eyes._

_“About the fact that if this gun were to go off right now, that nobody would care, nobody would miss me. Nobody loves me. Not like you and Liam love each other, and Stiles and Derek love each other, and Lydia and Parrish, and Ethan and Jackson, and Mason and Corey, an-and Malia and Kira... I don't have anyone. They all left. They all got something better. Malia and Kira have each other. Isaac has his boyfriend in France, and Allison's dead. The universe is trying to tell me that I don't deserve love, and it's right. They all left, and they're all better off without me, so the rest of the world will be too. The people I care about always end up getting hurt anyway, so the pack would be better off.”_

_Stunned silence filled the air, the smell of his own sadness and crippling loneliness permeating the room. There were tears streaming steadily down his face, dripping onto his shirt, forming small wet patches._

_“Is that honestly what you think, Scott?” Theo whispered to him, tugging the gun gently out of Scott's lax and drunken grip, and handing it off to Derek, who unloaded it and stowed it carefully in his inside jacket pocket. “Do you honestly think that the pack wouldn't care if you died? That nobody would miss you? If you honestly do feel that way, then we, as your friends and family, have failed you. We have failed if you can't see how loved you are, how much we need you.”_

_Scott broke down completely, collapsing into Theo's arms as heaving sobs wracked his body, crying himself to sleep while Theo held him, joined shortly thereafter by Stiles, Liam, (to his surprise) Derek, and the rest of the pack._

_They had stayed with him the entire night, and in the morning, Scott was sat down on his bed by Derek and Theo while the rest of the pack was busy._

_Scott remembered everything the next morning once he'd sobered up. All he'd wanted to do was deal with his problems on his own; he didn't want to push his problems onto anyone else, they didn't deserve to suffer what he was, even vicariously._

_But he'd been stupid enough to get hammered somewhere they could find him whilst he had a sodding gun in his hand, now they knew he was broken and everything was ruined. Nobody in the pack would want to follow a broken Alpha. “How can he lead a pack if he can't even have control over his own mind?” That's what they'd say, what they'd whisper into each other's ears as he walked past._  
_He was snapped from his thoughts by Theo and Derek sitting in front of him and Theo placing a gentle hand on his shoulder so he would look up from where he was staring at his hands in his lap._

_“Scott? How much do you remember from last night, mate?”_

_“Everything.” Scott whispered, barely audibly._

_“Why didn't you tell anyone what you were going through? We are your pack, Scott. Your family. We love you, we want to help.” Theo asked him, looking pleadingly into his face. Scott couldn't bring himself to meet Theo's gaze, and he wiped angrily at the tears that had started spilling down his cheeks._

_“I didn't tell anyone because I didn’t want to be a burden. This is destroying me enough as it is, I didn't want it to hurt anyone else. I didn't want you guys to worry.”_

_“And do you think we're any less worried now than we would have been if you'd told us what was going on?” Derek chimed in, “We walked through the front door to see you, our Alpha, our friend, sitting in the living room, staring down the barrel of a pistol.” Scott whimpered at Derek's words._

_“Look, nobody here is going to be arrogant enough to pretend to know what you're going through, only you can ever truly know that. But we might know what something similar feels like. Both of us know what it feels like to give up on finding love, to think that you're not worthy of someone loving you, to feel worthless and useless, and ashamed of what you're feeling and who you are. Being sent to Hell, it changed me. I knew that I deserved to be there for what I'd done to the pack, even if the Dread Doctors brainwashed me into doing it. It was the worst thing that has or probably will ever happen to me, it still haunts my nightmares. I deserved to go to Hell, and I didn't think I deserved love. Liam helped me. He helped me realise that I am a better person than I was before, that THAT Theo Raeken doesn't exist anymore, and that everyone deserves to feel safe and loved if they're a good person. I’ve changed for the better, and if I deserve love now, especially after everything I've done, then you sure as shit deserve love.”_

_“Everything’s ruined now. None of you want a pathetic, weak, broken Alpha like me. I'm sorry I worried you all, and I'm sorry I'm such a disappointment; Derek's a good leader. He can be your Alpha. I'll leave now.” And he had pushed past Derek and Theo, making it through the front door before the pack had fully realised what was going on. But Scott was stopped a few metres away from the house by a ring of black dust which circled the entire Hale House. Mountain ash._

_“Let me go.” Scott pleaded desperately, turning round and looking up the front steps to where the pack was gathered on the porch, watching him sadly. “PLEASE! Let me go. I need to get out of here before I ruin anyone else's life.”_

_“No, Scott.” Said Deaton, stepping forward from where the pack had concealed him. “You need help.”_

_“You're our friend, Scott. You're my brother. Please, let us help. We love you and we want you to get better.” Stiles walked down the front steps towards him._

_“You have all the symptoms of depression, Sco—”_

_“That’s not possible. Werewolf healing, remember? We're not affected by illness.”_

_“A werewolf's emotions are heightened. Everything is more intense. Because you feel things so much more than regular humans, you are by no means immune; your symptoms are, in fact, amplified.” Deaton explained._

_“We're your pack, Scotty. For better or worse, through thick and thin, we're with you, whether or not you want us to be, because that's what family is.” Stiles told him, pulling him in for a crushing hug._

_The rest of the pack (sans Deaton) joined the hug, and gradually coaxed Scott back inside._

*****

That had been two months ago. Scott still had bad days sometimes, days where the devil on his shoulder whispered in his ear that people would be better off without him, but those days were far fewer than before.

Deaton became Scott's therapist, and gave him a refillable prescription for an antidepressant called citalopram (laced with just enough wolfsbane to stop his healing ability burning through the drugs). Derek and Theo had grown closer to him, their friendship evolving and strengthening. Theo especially, understood the darkness that sometimes clouded his thoughts and was always there to comfort and reassure him.

Malia and Kira had sat him down about a week after the pack had found out and the three of them had sat together and cried. Scott promised them that he loved them and was happy for them, and that they didn't need to and nor did he want them to feel guilty for loving each other.

Scott had gathered the pack together the day after that, and had opened up to them, answering their questions if he could. He also promised them, gave them his word, that he would never drink enough to lose control like that ever again. His mum did not need another alcoholic breaking the family apart. He refused to be like his father. He asked all those that could to listen to his heartbeat, so that they could be assured of the truth in his words. He had kept his word, and he intended to keep doing so.

Gradually, after many tearful and emotional heart-to-hearts, the pack stopped walking on eggshells around him, no longer treating him as something fragile that could fall apart at any moment. Things went back to normal (as normal as they could for a werewolf in Beacon Hills), and the world carried on spinning.

And that led to where Scott was now, sitting at the bay window in the library of the Hale House, hugging his knees to his chest and looking calmly into the trees, thinking about everything that had transpired that fateful night that he had been bitten by Peter Hale. Stiles had proposed to Derek at Christmas, and they were due to get married in a couple of months. Scott also knew that Theo planned to propose to Liam on his eighteenth birthday next Friday. He smiled happily, thinking to himself that hopefully he would have something like that one day.

He was shaken from his silent reflection by Theo sitting down opposite him and handing Scott his mobile.

“You got a text from Deaton.” Theo smiled at him.

Scott unlocked his phoned and read the text. He frowned as he was reading, and then jumped up just as Stiles came skidding into the room.

“What’s wrong?” Theo asked Scott as he got up to join him.

“Scott! My boundary spells activated, there's a new supernatural in town! Quick, we need to find them!” Stiles panted.

“I already know where they are. They're at the animal clinic. Theo, get Peter and Derek. I want the three of you with me, in case they're not in a friendly mood. Let's move.”

*****

They were pulling up in front of the animal clinic in Theo’s truck in ten minutes, walking through the door to see Deaton and Scott's mum facing them.

“Mum? What are you doing here? What's happened? Where’s the supernatural?”

“I was on my way home from work, and I hit someone with my car. I was sure it was a person, but when I got out to check on them, they weren't human anymore. So I brought him to Deaton.” His mum spoke quickly.

“He is just through here.” Deaton said, leading them to the back of the clinic to where he operated. The place was a mess. Glass beakers were smashed, the examination table was tipped over, and in the corner was a cowering animal, a fox, whimpering softly, trying to make himself seem as small and insignificant as possible, hiding behind his  _six_ bushy tails. He was missing his right eye, a bloody gash slicing through it across his face. His fur hung to his skeletal frame and was matted and filthy, caked in mud and blood which was running steadily from his eye socket and several other cuts on his body. It was a heart-breaking sight. He was a six-tailed fox; a fully-shifted kitsune.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who is this mysterious new supernatural creatures in Beacon Hills? Why is he here? And what does that have to do with the Hale family?
> 
> Trigger warnings for panic attacks, physical and psychological torture, mutilation, and PTSD. Stay safe, everyone xx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I just want to say something and I know that this might not interest anyone reading, but I feel proud of myself, so I want to share that with you guys.
> 
> Firstly, I want to say thank you to everyone reading my stuff in the first place, leaving kudos and comments. It means the world to me, as an aspiring novelist, that people enjoy my style of writing.
> 
> Secondly, and this is my main point, I feel so fricking proud of myself for putting anything that I've written up on this site in the first place. I have depression and anxiety, and whilst I know that that doesn't make me in any way special and please note that this is NOT me looking for pity, it makes it extremely difficult for me to feel confident enough in myself and my work to lay it all out there for strangers to read. Today, June 26th 2018, makes it two months since I last self-harmed, which is a huge emotional deal for me. I am now dealing with my mental health in a positive and safe way, and am on medication for my depression (which in itself is a HUGE step for me to be able to take). Work has been really quiet over the past two days, so I've been able to escape home early, and what's surprised me in particular is that I've been anxious and excited to get home so that I can carry on writing; I felt MOTIVATED, which hasn't happened in a very long time, so I feel very proud of the progress I'm making in my life, and I wanted to share that with you. Thank you all for allowing me to do that, from the bottom of my heart.
> 
> T xxx

**Scott's POV**

There was a gasp of shock from behind him. Everybody looked round at Theo, who had a hand pressed against his mouth, his eyes wide in recognition.

“Theo, do you recognise him?” Scott asked slowly. The only response Theo seemed able to give was a shaky nod.

“Oh my god, Timothy.” Theo's eyes flared gold as he let the transformation wash over him, fully-shifting into his preferred coyote form (being a chimera, half werewolf and half werecoyote, he was able to choose whether he wanted to transform into a wolf or a coyote). Theo padded forward on his four paws towards the kitsune, standing in front of him. He let his eyes glow gold again, and the kitsune's remaining eye glowed orange in recognition. Theo yipped happily, his tail starting to wag gently and unsurely and he startled nuzzling into the other, and they both slowly transformed back to humans, hugging each other, Theo shielding the other boy from view, a subconsciously protective move. Both of them were naked. Peter passed Theo his clothes, and then went to get the spare change of clothes that Theo kept in his truck for the other boy.

“What happened to you, Tim?” Theo asked wetly, as the other boy, Timothy, buried his head into Theo’s shoulder and wept. Timothy was small in stature, maybe even shorter than Liam and Corey, though Scott reckoned he was a similar age to them, around sixteen to eighteen at a guess. He was painfully thin, skin and bone, covered in blood and mud, his ribs clearly visible; inflamed and scarred, with messy stitches holding the skin together on both sides, blood oozing from both wounds. Peter came back with the clothes and handed them to Theo who, still shielding Timothy from view, helped him dress. Timothy looked up afterwards, and Derek let out a strangled yell. Everyone turned towards Derek and Peter, who both looked as though they had seen a ghost.

“Timmy? Is that you?” Derek croaked, eyes wide and face pale. Timothy looked at him.

“Der? Uncle Peter? Oh my god!” He tried to get up, wincing in pain and made towards Derek, but Derek backed away, shaking his head.

“You're just an illusion, my brother died in the fire. Kitsunes are trickster spirits, you're not really Timmy!”

“Der, it's me! It is!”

“Prove it. Tell me something only _he_ would know.” Timothy caught himself, and paused for a minute, thinking. He then drew in a shaky breath.

“The last thing you said to me before the fire. We were alone in your bedroom and you pressed a Scooby-Doo plaster onto my knee because you knew it made me feel better when I couldn’t see the blood. You kissed it better and hugged me and told me that Papa was a bad man, but that you would protect me. You would always be there to protect me.”

Derek surged forward and gathered Timothy into his arms, both of them clutching onto each other as they cried.

“Oh my God! It _is_ you! You’re alive! My baby brother’s alive! It’s been ten years, what the hell happened to you?!” Peter was pulled into the hug by Derek, as the rest of them stood there, confused but able to feel the euphoric happiness radiating from the three of them.

So, Timothy was Derek’s little brother, meaning he was Peter's nephew, and inexplicably, somehow, Theo knew him as well. Scott decided that introductions were needed. He cleared his throat.

“Umm, maybe we should be introduced. I'm Scott McCall, Alpha werewolf of Beacon Hills.” He held out his hand to Timothy, who raised his right hand to shake Scott’s weakly.

“Timothy Hale. Derek's youngest sibling, Peter's nephew.”

Now that Scott knew who he was, the family resemblance was obvious. He had Cora's face, Peter's curly light brown hair (but where Peter's was short and slicked back, Timothy's hair was long, matted, and tied back in a messy half-bun), and the eye that he still had was Derek’s shade of green.

“Hale?” Timothy turned to face Theo. “You never told me your surname.”

“It never came up. Same reason you never told me yours, mate.”

“Wait, how do you two know each other? And why do you smell different? Why do you transform into a six-tailed fox? You don't smell like a werewolf anymore. What happened to you? Your eye... Why aren't you healing?” Derek turned Timothy towards him and shook him slightly by the shoulders.

Scott could smell the anxiety rolling off Timothy in thick waves, his heartbeat speeding up dramatically. Scott intervened.

“Maybe we should sit down and start from the beginning. Mum, can you get Timothy here a glass of water maybe?”

“Of course, and we can have a look at his injuries then, as well.” She nodded, switching into 'nurse mode', as Scott called it.

Timothy looked at Scott with a small smile and mouthed 'thank you'. Scott nodded and smiled back as Melissa Stilinski handed him the glass of cool water. She and Deaton had righted the examination table and were prepping to begin treating Timothy's injuries.  
Timothy was sat down on the examination table and stripped to his underwear so the extent of his injuries could be gauged. The supernatural creatures in the room could sense his heartbeat starting to speed up again, the pungent smell of fear rising off of Timothy.

“Why don't we start from the beginning?” Scott started, trying to take Timothy's mind off of things. “What you said to Derek earlier... Your father abused you?”

“Yes. He beat me and Derek. Just us. Everyone loved him, but they didn't know what a monster he really was. It was Derek and me against the world. I was the first person whose pain Derek took, after my father threw me down the stairs. And he was the first person whose pain I took, after Papa smashed a glass over his head.”

Peter gasped and whimpered behind Scott. Derek was staring down at his feet. Peter turned towards him.

“Derek always doted on his little brother. They were the 'Dynamic Duo’; but I didn’t know that this was why Derek was always so fiercely protective over Timmy. Why didn't you ever say anything, Derek? You know I would've believed you.”

“He said he'd kill Timmy if I ever told anyone. I couldn't take that chance.”

“Derek and I took care of each other when one of us was hurt. We were a team. He was my best friend and my protector, the only person I could trust.” He gave Derek a watery smile.

“And how did you escape the fire? You can’t have been very old when it happened, Derek himself was only sixteen. What happened afterwards?” Scott continued.

“I was barely seven years old when the fire happened. And the only reason I escaped was... was because of Uncle Peter.” They all stared at Peter, who cleared the lump out of his throat and said,

“We were trapped in the basement. Timothy was the only one small enough to fit through the bars on the window. So I gave him a leg up so he could wriggle out and escape. I told him to run and not look back. But then—”

“Then that Kate girl that Derek was dating grabbed me and dragged me away, she put me in the back of her truck and drove away with me.”

“I saw it all. I screamed and screamed but Kate dragged him away. I thought she'd kill him.”

“Suffice it to say, she didn't kill me. She decided she wanted to keep me as a pet prisoner instead. So I was a supernatural slave to her for four years.”

“FOUR YEARS?!?!” Derek roared. Timothy bowed his head, nodding sadly.

“After a while, I just gave up on trying to escape. Every time I tried, she'd carve words into my skin with a dagger imbued with wolfsbane as a punishment. Words like 'monster', 'freak', 'failure', things like that. Four years after she kidnapped me, she got a call from her brother Chris, saying that the werewolves were back in Beacon Hills and that they needed her help. She packed her stuff up with me in the back of her truck again, but told me that she _obviously_ couldn't bring me back to Beacon Hills with her, because keeping me as a slave and torturing me was against the Argent's code. So she pulled over, shot me with a wolfsbane bullet and left me for dead on the side of the road.”

Everyone was silent. So silent that you could've heard a moth beating its wings in the air.

“What happened then?” Scott whispered.

“The Dread Doctors found him.” Said Theo unexpectedly, in a dark voice. Timothy nodded.

“They did. That was how I met Theo. He was the first chimera. I am the second. After their experiments worked on Theo, they wanted to see how their experiments would affect a born-werewolf. Of course, I was neither a genetic chimera nor had I ever had a transplant, so the Dread Doctors had to do the same thing they did with Theo: perform an unnecessary transplant. They got a random person with the same blood type, killed them and gave me one of their lungs. The only problem was that because I was a born-werewolf, my healing ability made their experiments impossible, so they had to keep giving me injections of wolfsbane to stop me healing. It worked, but it permanently damaged my healing ability, which is why I'm not healing at the moment. I'm now half werewolf and half kitsune. Theo and I became friends and kept one another safe. He taught me how to fully shift. I was with the Dread Doctors for another four years, before Theo and I decided that we had to escape. The Dread Doctors said that we were on our way to Beacon Hills. I didn't know if Kate was still in town or not, and I didn't want to find out. Derek was the only one that I knew had escaped the fire, and the last I’d heard, he was in Mexico , so Theo and I were all set to escape so we could go looking for him, when the Doctors discovered our plans. They would've killed us both, but Theo had held them off so I could escape. He sacrificed himself so I could have my freedom.”

“And I'd do it again.” Said Theo, moving to sit next to him on the table, whilst Scott's mum and Deaton tended to his wounds. Most of them were cleaned and bandaged up and they were about to start treating the gash on his face that carved through his eye, which seemed to be the most recent acquisition. Melissa held up a syringe of anaesthetic, but Timothy freaked out.

“NO! No, please, Ma’am! No needles!”

“Honey, this is an anaesthetic. It'll numb the area around your eye, so we can fix you up. You'll need this. The only other way is to put you under, which we thought would make you panic more. I promise you, if there was another way, that's what we'd be doing.” She placed a reassuring hand on his knee, looking kindly into his face. Timothy was shaking violently, unable to control his rapid breathing. He was having a severe panic attack.

“Timothy, listen to me. You aren't with the Dread Doctors, you're safe now with me and Scott and your brother and uncle. You're in the Beacon Hills animal clinic. You're safe here. I promise. I'll be right here with you.” Theo crouched in front of him, tilting his chin gently so that Timothy was looking into his eyes. Slowly, the younger man's breathing slowed and he hiccupped quietly.

He looked slowly up at Melissa.

“I’m sorry, but if it’s all the same to you, Miss, I’ll still go without the anaesthetic.”

“Sweetie, this is going to be extremely painful without any painkillers, I really wouldn’t recommen—"

“So be it. I’m sure, ma'am.” Theo sat obstinately back down next to him, Timothy clutching onto Theo’s hand for comfort as Melissa approached and started sterilising the wound with a cotton swab and some alcohol disinfectant. Scott couldn’t help but be shocked and admiring of how Timothy only winced slightly but otherwise betrayed no other reaction to the intense pain he must surely be feeling. Scott caught Theo’s eye, and gestured to Timothy, urging him to keep distracting him. Theo nodded and spoke up.

“How come you have six tails now? You only had four before.”

“I thought kitsunes gained more tails the older they became.” Said Derek, speaking for the first time in a while.

“That is a common misconception.” Replied Deaton. “Kitsunes earn their tails during the most significant and often traumatic moments of their lives.”

“When I was turned into a Chimera, I already had four tails. The first represented my Papa's abuse, the second represented the fire that I thought had killed my family, the third represented my time being tortured by Kate Argent, and the fourth represented the Dread Doctors experimenting on me. The fifth and sixth tails came later. The fifth tail appeared the first time I shifted after my escape from the Dread Doctors. It represents the pain I felt at Theo sacrificing himself for my freedom. And the sixth was earned quite recently, as a matter of fact. I earned it in Mexico only yesterday.”

Scott’s mum pressed a patch of gauze over his eye and bandaged it in place. She handed him back his borrowed clothes so that he didn't feel so exposed.

“There. All fixed up. You'll probably still be in quite significant pain for a couple of months—”

“No, he won’t.” Said Derek resolutely. He walked over to his little brother and touched his face gently. At once, black lines started crawling from everywhere on Timothy's body and snaking out and into Derek's arm as he leeched the pain from his brother. He gasped almost as soon as he touched Timothy's face, yelling out in pain.

“Derek, stop!” Tim begged him, reaching up to try and pull Derek’s hand away from his face. But Derek refused to back down.

“So... Much... AAAH! Pain!” Derek panted, his eyes glowing blue with the pain.

Scott stepped forward and joined Derek in taking Timothy’s pain. He had never felt so much pain in his life. Even splitting the pain between him and Derek, Scott thought his legs would buckle under the onslaught of physical pain, it felt like torture. God knows how Timothy had coped with this level of pain for so long. Scott didn’t think that it was possible for one person to be in so much pain and not die. Theo cottoned on and now three people were sucking the pain from the young Hale. After a minute or so, the black lines disappeared. All of his pain was gone. Scott, Theo, and Derek were all panting, their eyes glowing with the effort that it had cost them to take so much pain. Timothy slumped forward and Derek caught him against his chest, pushing him back into a sitting position on the table.

“There. That will do until we get home. Then Stiles can do a healing spell to fix you up completely, though I'm not sure whether he'll be able to repair the vision in your eye, Timmy. I'm sorry.”

“What the hell is a Stiles?” Timothy asked, looking to Scott for an answer.

“Stiles is one of my best friends, well that's his nickname, anyway. You don't want to even try and pronounce his real name. He's one of the smartest and kindest and funniest people I know. And he's also...” He paused, not sure that it was his news to reveal, but a small smiling nod from Derek have him permission, “he’s also your brother Derek here's fiancé.” Timothy's eye widened in shock and delight and he whipped round to face his brother.

“You're getting married?! That's amazing, Der! But I have to say, I always knew you were gay.” Peter walked back into the room at that moment, and burst out laughing upon hearing his nephew's comment. No-one had noticed that he had left the room in the first place. Noticing their enquiring looks, he calmed down enough to say:

“I just got off the phone with Cora, I thought she deserved to know that her little brother is still alive. She's on the next flight to California, and she's staying until after the wedding.”

“Cora’s alive too? That's incredible! I can't wait to see her! By the way, Derek, when have you set the date?”

“The wedding is two months from now. You'll come, won't you?”

“Of course, I will! It's not like I have anywhere else to go anyway.” He joked.

“And you'll come to live with the pack at the Hale House as well?” Theo asked excitedly.

“The pack had it rebuilt a year or so ago after it burned down in the fire.” Derek answered the silent question. “but going back to your earlier point, how could you know that I was gay?! _I_ didn't even know way back then!”

“Oh come on! You totally had a crush on the math teacher. And you're a damn fool if you think you were ever actually into Kate Argent. It always felt a bit like you were sucking up to her because you had the hots for her big brother.”

“Eeeeeewww Derek, no! Please tell me that my husband was never the object of your affections!” Peter mimed throwing up onto the floor.

“Wait, hold up, back up a second there? Your husband is Chris Argent? You're gay too? Is the entire remaining Hale family a bunch of fruitcakes?” Timothy laughed raucously.

“And what does that make you, then?” said Derek, a hint of defensiveness in his voice.

“A fellow fruitcake, Derek dear, don't you worry.” The group chuckled lightly.

“If I might be able to interupt, you never told us how you got your sixth tail, what happened to your eye, or what happened to you during the other two years that you were missing for.” Scott hated himself for breaking up this family moment, because it warmed his heart to see Derek and Peter so truly happy at having found out that another member of their family had survived, but he needed to know what had happened.

“Yeah of course. Sorry, Mr McCall.”

“I’m begging you to just call me Scott.”

“Scott.” Timothy smiled at him. It was a nice smile, it made his eye scrunch up and twinkle; he smiled with his whole face. Scott couldn't help but smile back.

“Everything you've said about Kate and the Dread Doctors coincides with their arrivals in town, but that still leaves you missing for the last two years. What happened to you after you escaped from the Dread Doctors?”

“Well, it was like I said. Theo and I had planned to head towards Mexico. It was far away from the Dread Doctors, and it was the last place that Derek had been rumoured to be seen. So, that’s where I headed. It took me a few months in total to get there. I had to steal food scraps and cars and clothes, but a few weeks here and there I would try and hold down a job, for a little bit of cash for fuel and the occasional night in a hostel, but I didn’t dare stay anywhere too long. If I couldn’t pay for a hostel, I'd have to sleep in the car that I'd stolen that week, or sleep rough if I hadn't managed to find a car. A couple of times, I actually got mugged, but I didn't want to use my powers because I didn't want to hurt them, so I ended up back at square one with nothing. No money. Nowhere to sleep. No way of getting to Mexico.”

Scott hated hearing the defeated tone in Timothy's voice.

“But that must have taken so much self-control, for you to keep a lid on your powers whilst people were beating you up and literally taking everything you had from you. What's your anchor?” Scott asked, partly amazed at how Timothy had survived through everything that had happened to him, and partly disgusted at how Timothy had had to live, because nobody deserved that, especially not someone as inherently good as Timothy obviously was. Timothy looked up at Scott, with a small, sad smile as a stray tear slipped delicately down his prominent cheekbone.

“Pain.” He whispered, almost imperceptibly. “I focussed on pain. The pain that I was in at the time. The lingering pain from traumas past. Back when I was taken by Kate Argent, she conditioned me to expect pain, punishment, and torture when I used my powers or shifted without her permission. Which, as you can imagine, made full moons seem much less appealing and much more like something to be feared and dreaded.”

Scott cast his mind back to when he had first been turned into a werewolf, and how it had been physically impossible for him to not shift during those first few full moons, and he had been a lot older than seven or eight years old. For a small kid like Timothy would've been back then, ordering him to not shift on the full moon would definitely have been impossible, and would have scarred him mentally and emotionally knowing that he would be tortured for something he had no control over. As he looked around, he could see Derek and Peter coming to the same conclusion as him, and Scott could see how much it destroyed them inside to imagine someone they cared about going through such agony.

“When I got to the Dread Doctors, Theo helped me understand that my powers didn't have to be pushed down or feared, he helped me feel powerful and safe again, and I knew that Kate was conditioning my mind to believe that I was a monster, and I had stopped believing her, but all I had to do was think and feel the memory of that pain, that indescribable agony, and my powers shut themselves off like muscle memory. And... and even though the full moon didn't affect me anymore, being a chimera, I couldn't stop that fear that had been introduced. Even now, when it’s been so long since I was taken by Kate, I still get scared on the full moon, still have panic attacks.” Theo wrapped a comforting arm around his shoulders, and Timothy leaned into the touch slightly. Scott didn't know what to do, only that he really wanted to be able to comfort Timmy in some way, so he settled for sitting down next to Timothy on his right and, hesitating only momentarily, placed a comforting hand on his knee.

“You've been _so brave_ , Timothy. I can't even imagine going through what you have, never mind having to relive it by telling us. Do you think you're okay to continue?” He nodded determinedly.

“Eventually I got enough money together for a bus ticket the rest of the way to Mexico. There was a little abandoned shack on the outskirts of the town centre that I ended up living in. There wasn't any electricity, but there was running water, which was more than I had expected. I finally had a roof over my head, somewhere I was _free_ and could stay clean and dry, things I hadn't had for eight years. I settled into town, managed to get a job at the local market, and started to ask questions about Derek Hale. This was about a year after I had escaped from the Dread Doctors now. Although, I guess someone got suspicious of the strange kid asking questions about a ghost, because a few months after that, a group of hunters called the Calaveras picked me up. Apparently I was asking too many questions. They like electrocution.”

“Trust me, I remember.” Said Scott, recalling the time when they had used electrocution to torture _him_ for the whereabouts of 'la loba'.

“They kept me as a prisoner for about a year, trying to get information out of me about Scott McCall the True Alpha. They said that if I was a supernatural creature from Beacon Hills, then I'd obviously know of Scott McCall , and that there was no point in trying to withhold the information, because they'd get it out of me one way or another.” He turned to look at Scott as he was talking, and Scott was in despair that he was the reason that Timothy had lost a year of living his life.

“But of course, I didn't know you then, had no idea who you were, so I couldn't give them any information on you. I was telling them the truth when I said I didn't know anything, but they wouldn't believe me; they thought that I was just trying to protect you.”

“I’m so sorr—”

“Hey, it's not _your_ fault. We hadn't even met! I don't blame you for it now that I've met you, so you shouldn't blame yourself either. Anyway, about a month or so ago, I heard a lot of commotion from my cell in the dungeons and a little while after that, the mean old lady that led the Calaveras –”

“Araya.” Scott muttered darkly.

“Right. Well, she came down to the dungeons and I hid in the corner of my cell, because I thought she'd come down to torture me again, but she brought a visitor with her. Introduced her as Tamora Monroe.”

“You’ve _got_ to be kidding me!” Theo growled on Timothy's other side. “We get rid of her from here and she happens to end up with the very group of hunters that are keeping you hostage?! I mean, what are the damn odds?!”

“Apparently very high. Turns out that she was married to Araya's son.”

“Past tense?” Scott enquired. Timothy signed heavily and hunched around himself, bringing his arms around so that he could hug his knees to his chest, something Scott himself always did when he was anxious. “What happened? It's okay, you can tell us. You're safe here.” Timothy looked at him with fresh tears shining in his eye, the smell of his fear and anxiety filling the room.

“Things went back to normal pretty soon after Monroe's arrival, except that she insisted on being the one to come down to be dungeons and torture me. She's pretty handy with a knife, turns out. Her favourite thing was to cut me open near my ribs (because they'd sussed it out ages ago that my healing factor didn’t work) and then she’d shove an entire wolfsbane plant in there, stitch me back up and leave me like that for however long she fancied. She used to particularly like using this evil vine-type plant that she managed to grow from a specific type of wolfsbane crossed with some sort of ivy that kitsunes are apparently especially vulnerable to, and used this new plant to make my torture time as painful an experience as possible for me. Then, yesterday, I was strapped to the ‘torture table' (as she liked to call it) and she'd just finished putting the plant in and stitching me back up, when someone ran down the steps and told her that they needed her to help unload a shipment of rifles that they'd forgotten was due to be delivered. So she went with them, but she'd left me strapped to the table, she'd forgotten to lock me back in my cell before she left. It took a lot of effort because of that vile plant in my body and I was awfully weak anyway, but I full-shifted into my kitsune form, which meant that the restraints were much looser, loose enough to wriggle out of. I was so weak, I didn't dare transform back to human yet in case I passed out, so I ran to the stairs and managed to open the door enough to slip through the crack.” Timothy paused in his story, and seemed to struggle not to break down in tears again, sterling himself up for what must be the worst part of his story.

“What I hadn't counted on was a guard being posted outside the dungeon door, although it seems so obvious in hindsight. The guard on shift that time was Araya’s son, Monroe's husband. He saw me sneaking out the door and went to attack. There was a struggle and he cut me and blinded me in my right eye with his knife and...”

“And what?” Scott held his breath, scared for the answer.

“And I... I killed him!” He moaned, rocking backwards and forwards slightly, hugging his knees even tighter this chest. “I killed him! I killed him!” And he broke down completely, looking at Scott with such a look of despair and grief that it crushed Scott inside.

This kid was seventeen years old and had suffered maybe more than everyone in this room combined. It had left him broken and, in spite of himself, Scott felt sympathy for Timothy, because he knew what it felt like to feel so hopeless and alone.  
Derek and Peter moved forwards and brought Timothy in for a crushing hug, whispering words of comfort and reassurance that he wasn't a monster and that it had been self-defence. Theo and Scott joined soon thereafter, while Melissa smiled at her son from where he could see her in the doorway over Peter's shoulder.

“Hey, Scott, I'm going home now. Take care of him and let me know how things go. He had a small backpack with him when I hit him with my car, I’ve left it over in the corner. I love you, Scott. Stay safe, baby.” She whispered so quietly so only he would be able to hear her over the gradually quietening sobs. With that, she left. Deaton had also wandered off somewhere unnoticed, but at this point, that was what they had come to expect from the vet.

The crying stopped after a while and Timmy seemed to be calm enough to carry on speaking, which he did without prompt.

“Araya came round the corner of the hallway with a cup of tea that must have been for her son. Then she saw me standing over her son's body and the blood... There was so much blood and – I hate her so much for what her and her family did to me, but no mother should have their child's life snatched from them like that. Despite everything, it's unfair that he died the way he did and that Araya saw her son dead like that. I ran. I ran back to the shack I'd been staying in before, turned back to human, gathered everything that I could take with me and hotwired the nearest car. Luckily it had pretty much a full tank of gas and enough cash for a refill in the glove compartment. I was sneaking past the California border by ten o'clock this morning, and when I shifted to get past the border control, my sixth tail had appeared, earned by the grief I had caused by taking another's life. It took me until about three o'clock this afternoon to get here, and well... you know the rest.” Timothy finished his story with mundane finality, clearly very shaken up from having to relive such a recent trauma.

Nobody really knew what to say after Timothy had finished telling the harrowing story of the past ten years of his life. It felt like to say anything would be to break some unspoken rule. Eventually though, they were broken out of their silent reverie by Theo's mobile ringing. It was Liam. He answered the call and put it on speakerphone.

“Liam? You’re on speakerphone. What's wrong? Has something happened, baby?” Theo asked, worried.

_“Theo? Oh thank God! You've been gone for so long, the pack was starting to get worried. Stiles is freaking out. Please tell me all of you are okay!”_ Liam's voice was hurried and worried.

“Yeah, we're all fine, Liam. Just wrapping things up before we head back. It was nothing to worry about. Tell Stiles that no new supernatural threat is coming to steal his fiancé away from him and ruin his perfectly planned wedding.” Scott said, rolling his eyes at the thought of his best friend. At that moment, Stiles' voice could be heard in the background on Liam's end of the phone, getting louder as he seemed to have snatched the phone out of Liam's hand and started screaming into the mouthpiece.

_“Liam, is that Derek on the phone? Is he okay? If he's alive, tell him I hate him and I’m going to kill him when he gets back home for making me so worried! I swear to God, Derek, if you have gone and gotten yourself killed before I get to marry you, I'll resurrect you just so I can kill you myself!”_

“Stiles. I'm okay. We'll be on our way home in just a little bit. Try and stay calm, angel.”

_“Derek?! Oh thank heavens you're alright! I've been so scared! We hadn't heard anything from you guys for three hours, we got worried that something bad had happened.”_ They could hear Stiles crying with relief on the other end. _“I wasn't mad at you, baby. I promise I’m not going to kill you when you get home and I don't hate you, I could never hate you. I was just scared you were hurt!”_ Derek rolled his eyes fondly at his fiancé’s hysterical rambling.

“I know, Stiles. I'm sorry I worried you. Listen though, baby. We'll be on our way home in a bit, just order a bunch of pizzas or something for dinner for everyone. And can you also please get your spell book ready? We need you to do a healing spell when we get back. I'll explain later, but I need you to do this for me. Please Stiles.” Stiles sounded on the verge of protesting or demanding to know what the matter was but he finally signed in defeat, told them to be home in fifteen minutes for when the pizza arrived, and ended the call with a quick 'I love you' for Derek.

“So... What now?” Timothy asked in a small voice, looking to Scott for advice. Scott looked around. Where Timmy was looking at him with apprehension, the others all looked at him with hopeful expressions, waiting for their Alpha to pass judgement. Scott helped Timmy down from the table and looked him dead in the eye.

“You’re coming with us. Back home. To OUR home. And YOUR new home. I, Scott McCall, Alpha werewolf of Beacon Hills, am extending the official invitation to you, Timothy Hale, to join our pack. Do you accept this invitation?” He asked, letting his eyes flash red to show his superiority as Alpha. Timothy's eye flashed orange in response as he replied.

“I accept your offer, Scott McCall.”

Now there were tears of joy and surprised happiness glinting in his eye, as Derek cheered and hugged Scott, many repetitions of 'thank you' cried into his shoulder. Everyone was cheering and laughing and crying with happiness as they walked out the animal clinic and piled into Theo's truck to head back home with the new member of their little family, their pack.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timothy Hale meets the rest of the pack, but will the kid ever catch a break?
> 
> Possible trigger warning for panic attacks. Stay safe guys xx
> 
> As always, feel free to comment if you have any feedback, or if you have any possible ideas for the rest of the story that you want me to maybe explore?

**Timothy's POV**

Coming back to the Hale House, his old home, where so much had gone wrong, felt very strange for Timothy Hale. It felt kind of like déjà vu; he was excited to see it rebuilt after the fire, scared that it would bring back memories of the fire and his Papa's abuse, but most of all, he felt _so damn relieved_.

He hadn't known what he'd find when he came back to Beacon Hills after such a long time (he hadn't seen the place for over half his life), perhaps hunters swarming all over the place, or else a ghost town, completely abandoned with tumbleweeds rolling through the streets. Timothy hadn't known where else to go after he escaped from Mexico, only that Beacon Hills was out of the Calaveras's territory. He hadn't thought of where he'd stay, or where he'd get food, or clothes, or money. He only had a half-full packet of stale cheese crackers and about three hundred dollars in cash in his backpack; it was all he’d had time to grab from his shack in Mexico before he’d had to run. In all honesty, he'd expected to be sleeping on the streets, fishing discarded food out of garbage cans, while searching for signs of news about his family. He thought, maybe if he found this True Alpha Scott McCall that the Calaveras had been talking about, that he might be able to ask him for protection and perhaps shelter for a night or two.

What he had _certainly not_ expected was to be hit by a car as he crossed the dark street, for that woman to _know_ that he was supernatural and take him to his mother's old pack emissary (and moreover for her to be Scott McCall's _mother_ ), to then be introduced to the heroic True Alpha _and_ be reunited with three people that he thought he'd lost forever, and then be on his way to his old home that had previously been burned to cinders with almost his entire family inside, where he could now live freely and safely. It was a lot to take in; Timmy felt slightly overwhelmed, truth be told.

He was jogged from his thoughts by Scott, who was sitting on his left, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder to get his attention. He had a feeling that Scott had sat there deliberately so that on the side he was blind, the vulnerable side, he was sat next to a more familiar person, one that he trusted, Derek. Scott had purposefully made himself more visible to Timothy because he knew that Timothy knew him least (and potentially trusted him least), and that it would make him more comfortable if he could keep Scott in clear sight. Timothy appreciated the gesture enormously. He looked over to see why Scott wanted him.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Timothy smiled back at him awkwardly. There Scott was, with his perfectly tanned brown skin, those kind and deep-brown puppy-dog eyes, cute little crooked smile, and clothes that marvellously fitted his very impressive physique. Then here _he_ was, still filthy from being so long captured or on the run, wearing clothes borrowed from Theo that were way too big for him (it felt really weird, almost alien, to be wearing Theo’s clothes, surrounded by his scent of peppermint and cigarette smoke), with blood all over him, covered in bandages, and missing one of his sodding eyes! He noticed with a pang of guilt, that he had managed to get his blood on Scott's sweatshirt. As he looked around the truck, he could see that Theo, Derek, and Peter all had his blood on their clothes too. He looked down to see the clothes he was wearing with drying blood stained on them too. He’d ruined everybody's clothes. It wouldn't wash out, not unless Timothy stayed up the entire night scrubbing at them with seltzer water and lemon juice, an old trick he remembered his mother using to get bloodstains out of the clothes after there had been a bad full moon. Something of his internal distress seemed to have shown on his face, or perhaps Scott could just smell it because he opened his mouth.

“Hey, what's the matter?” Scott whispered soothingly.

“I ruined everyone's clothes.” Timmy mumbled, looking down at his lap, feeling pathetic when he felt tears prickling at the back of his good eye. He felt Scott shift next to him and was surprised when Scott turned him towards him, using the soft pad of his thumb to wipe at the tears on Timmy's face. Everyone else in the car was probably listening to the conversation, but seemed to be giving the two space so that they could continue uninterrupted.

“Look at me.” Scott said. It wasn't an order, but a soft-spoken request. “I’m sure the blood will come out in the wash and hey, if it doesn't, we have other clothes. It's really not a big deal. You've had so much to deal with, but try hard to let yourself relax. You're free now. You're _safe_. You have a pack and a home to go back to.”

“I guess...” I mumbled, “It’s just...”

“What?” Scott asked, actually tilting his head to the side like a damned adorable little puppy.

“It's just... What if they hate me? Or what if they think I'm a threat? What if they think I'm using you or something? What if they ask questions I can't answer and they think I'm useless and want to get rid of me? How am I even going to deal with daily life? I basically haven’t been among people for a solid decade. Should I enrol in high school? The Dread Doctors didn't want stupid chimeras so they taught us the basic stuff so that we could fit into society as spies when the time came, but that was ages ago for me, what if I'm the dumbest one in class? What if... What if they come back for me?” Timothy was well on his way to another full-blown panic attack in the middle of a moving vehicle. He could feel his eye burning orange as he struggled to control himself. Derek didn't say anything, just wrapped one arm around his little brother's shoulders, while Scott encouraged him to try and match his breathing pattern. In and out, in and out. Slowly and deeply. Timothy didn't realise they'd pulled over to the side of the road and rolled down all the windows so that a cool breeze blew from the early evening through the vehicle.

“I'm okay. I promise, I'm fine now.” He said, still gulping in shaky breaths of air. Scott raised his eyebrows at him, clearly unconvinced, but nodded at Theo to start the truck again.

“Timmy, they're going to love you. I mean, they like your Uncle Peter well enough, so you'll be _absolutely fine_.” Scott smirked and stuck his tongue out at Peter, who was glaring at him through the rear-view mirror. “They probably will have questions for you, though. But look, you don't have to answer any questions you don't want to. They’ll all understand, I promise. And as for anyone coming back for you, the Dread Doctors are all dead. This is way outside of Calaveras territory, so _they_ won't try for revenge unless they want a riot on their hands and an entire pack out for their blood. And we left Kate Argent in Mexico as the Calaveras's prisoner. So she won't be a problem, as a hunter _or_ a werejaguar.”

“Wait, what? Kate got turned? By who?”

“Me.” Peter said in a clipped tone, making it clear that a change of topic was needed. He clearly didn't want to go through the whole ordeal of telling him about the 'psychotic alpha' phase, especially as it would mean having to tell Timothy that his older sister had been killed by his uncle, who he seemed to admire.

“But Kate wasn't at the Calaveras’s base.” Timothy whispered, more to himself than anyone else. That meant that they had either killed her, or... she escaped, in which case she would almost definitely come after him if she caught wind that he was still alive. Timothy could see the others exchanging uneasy and worried glances over his head, which was cuddled to his brother's chest protectively, coming to the same conclusion that he was. Suddenly, he felt a warm hand in his. It was Scott's, soft and comfortable, gripping onto his hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. It was the simplest gesture, and the warmth from his hand seemed to travel up Timothy's arm and down into his belly, making him feel all warm and cuddly on the inside.

“Nobody. Is. Going. To. Come. And. Hurt. You. I _won't_ let them. _We_ won’t let them.” Scott looked directly into Timothy's eye, willing him to hear the ringing truth in his words, telling Timothy the words he didn't even know he needed to hear. He felt himself relaxing into the handhold at the sincerity in Scott’s voice.

A few minutes later, Timothy sat up straight and stared out the window as they turned off onto the long dirt path that led to where he remembered his old house being. He was anxious to see how the house had been rebuilt, how it compared to his slightly patchy memories of the place.

The exterior had been left largely the same as it was before the fire, except maybe slightly more modern. You could definitely tell that Derek and Peter had overseen the reconstruction.

Derek gave Timmy a hand down from the truck and kept a protective arm around him as they walked towards the house, but they hadn't got even halfway towards the door before it flew open and two people came flying out of it so fast that Timmy could barely prepare himself for attack before they were upon them.

But no attack came. No claws, punches, or kicks. He looked around to see one of the men clinging onto Derek like a koala, kissing him so enthusiastically, you'd think that one of them would pass out from lack of oxygen. The other man had jumped into Theo's arms bridal style, nuzzling fondly into his neck. It was nice to see, but Timothy couldn't focus too much on it because his vision had started fuzzing up, and suddenly Scott's worried face was drifting in and out of focus in front of him.

“It... Hurts...” Was all that Timmy could say before he slumped forward. He would've fallen straight into the dirt if Scott hadn't caught him under the arms and hoisted him up bridal-style, cradling him securely into his muscled chest. Peter ran forward to grab the door for Scott to carry Timmy inside. The two kissing couples stopped as they passed and Timmy could hear, as though from far away, the two strangers asking who he was and why they all had blood on them, but Theo and Derek brushed off their questions as they hurried after Scott.

Timmy could also hear faint voices inside as Scott carried him over the threshold, but the voices stopped abruptly when Scott entered. One of the men from outside, the one that had been missing Derek (Timothy supposed that it must be his fiancé Stiles), darted past them and cleared the large dining room table so that Scott could lay Timmy down on it. Timothy could hear Scott asking him desperately what was wrong, but couldn't answer as a fresh wave of pain washed over him and a cry tore itself from his throat and his back arched off the table.

Timothy could feel the stitches in his ribs ripping and fresh blood making Theo’s t-shirt cling to his body. He sensed more than felt Scott peeling it gently away and up off his body so that he was laying shirtless and bleeding onto the expensive-looking wooden table, more people coming to join the group crowding around the table and peering down at Timothy's small form. He writhed in discomfort at having all these strange new people crowding him, making him feel trapped and claustrophobic. He could feel some of the pain alleviate as Scott started sucking the pain out of him again, stubbornly refusing to let anyone else help.

“Guys, give him some space. You're scaring him.” Most of them backed off and went to watch from the living room, leaving just Scott, Derek, Peter, Derek's fiancé, and a pretty red-headed girl assessing his situation.

Now that most of the pain was gone, Timothy's mind cleared enough to be able to blink away the dizziness and focus his thoughts and his vision.

“Hey.” Scott said, “What’s hurting you? Where's the pain?”

“My ribs... Feel like they're on fire.” He could feel the red-headed girl poking at the old stitches in his ribs, when she straightened up holding something in her hand.

“What in the hell is this?” She asked, showing them the small leaf she had pulled from inside him. Timothy could feel his face being forcefully turned so that he was looking into Derek's face.

“Why didn't you tell us that they were still in there?!” He growled at his brother.

“He thinks he deserves the pain from them. He thinks that suffering like this will be some sort of atonement for what he did.” Scott said, more to himself than anyone else (though they all heard him crystal clear), staring blankly at Timmy as though recognising something familiar.

“Well don't just stand there, get that thing the hell out of my nephew!” Peter yelled hysterically. Low mutterings came from the other members of the pack persistently asking for answers, but still being ignored.

Scott was the first one to leap back into action. He silently asked Timothy for permission and received a nod of assent.

“Do it. I trust you.” Timothy gritted out, arching off the able again as another wave of agony hit. Scott let his eyes flash red and his claws come out and he swiped one claw clean through the stitches and quickly plunged his fingers into the wound withdrawing them with the plant clutched in his hand, dripping blood. Derek let out a shocked and angry yell at Scott’s actions, but Timmy grabbed Scott’s arm.

“The other side, there's one on the other side.” Scott vaulted over the table and sliced through the stitches again, reaching in and pulling the plant out. They were evil-looking things, with wickedly sharp barbed thorns on them, probably poisonous.

“There. They’re all out now. You're okay.” Scott said softly, patting the side of Timmy's face, who was whimpering in relief and leaning automatically into the touch of Scott’s palm on his cheek. “You should have told us that they were still in there, Tim. When did you last eat something?”

“Monroe threw me an apple about five days ago, I think?”

“You know you could've died, right? That's why you collapsed. It was those awful plants and with the fact that you haven't eaten in so long, it was worsening the plants' effects. You probably would've gone into a coma before too long if Scott hadn’t got them out when he did.” The red-headed girl told him.

“I killed her husband, and I can’t ever take that back. Even if it was an accident, I need to pay for what I did. And if I died... well that would just make us even, wouldn't it?” Tears started slipping down his cheeks again, and he hated himself for being so weak.

“Ssshhh, it’s okay. Maybe he didn’t deserve to die like he did, but you don’t deserve to be treated and abused the way you have been. Letting yourself die won’t change what’s happened. The past is the past, but the future is yours to decide. To live happily. Okay? Stiles is just going to do that healing spell and then the pain will be all gone. Then we can get you all cleaned up and get a decent-sized meal inside you.” Scott still stroked his cheek gently, but moved away so Stiles could approach.

“Hi. I'm Stiles by the way. Derek's—”

“Fiancé.”

“Yes... How did you know that?”

“Scott told me. I'm Timothy, Derek's little brother.”

“Okay. Well, I didn’t know he had a brother. We’ll talk more about that when you’re up to it. I'm going to need to take these bandages off so I can see what I'm healing. Do you want to do it or shall I?”

“I'll do it. It's okay. But I've bled all over your table. I'm really sorry.”

“Oh please. Don't be sorry. You're not the first and I highly doubt you'll be the last.” Stiles waved away Timothy's apology, but helped him with the bandage on his face, seeing that he was struggling to remove it. Timmy was thankful for that.

“You know,” Timothy commented after a while, “I was just thinking, before I collapsed and everything went bad outside, I was thinking that when you and that other boy ran out to see Derek and Theo, I've never seen either of them that happy before. I'm glad that they both managed to find that person that they belong with. It's nice to see my brother happy. So, thank you.” Stiles smiled warmly at him.

“I love him. And he loves me. You don't need much more than that. And for what it's worth, I haven't seen Scotty protective like that in a long time. He’s basically given up on caring about anything much. So, if your arrival means that we get the old Scotty back, you get a pack and a family, and Derek gets his brother back, there isn't any down side. So, welcome to the family. Now, lie back and I'll get started.”

Timothy did as he was told and Stiles started speaking words under his breath in a language that Timmy couldn't have understood if he'd tried. A soft golden glow ignited between Stiles' fingers and a warm wave of air rushed over Timothy's body. He could feel his skin pinching and stretching as it healed.

The glow faded from Stiles' hands and Timmy sat up, the lingering ache of pain gone from his body. He could feel the new skin pulling slightly as he stretched.

“Now, I'm not really an expert, so I couldn't do it without some pretty intense scarring. Do you want to have a look? I'm sorry I couldn't do anything better.” He explained with a little half-smile, as the red-headed girl, he heard someone call her Lydia, handed him a mirror out of her purse.

Timothy looked over his appearance briefly. Everything was healed and scarred over. All of them were tidy and neat, except the one on his face, which was quite warped and twisted, pulling ever so slightly on his upper lip. His blind eye was no longer a hole in his face, but a milky white eyeball, still blind but nonetheless, it was more than he dared hope for. Timothy lunged forward suddenly and wrapped his arms around Stiles' middle, words of thanks pouring from his lips. He turned around excitedly to see Scott, Derek, uncle Peter, and Theo beaming at him.

“Come on, pipsqueak. I'll show you where you can get cleaned up. Your old room is still spare, so we'll set you up in there.” Peter patted him genially on the shoulder and led him upstairs. The layout of the house was near enough the same as it was before but more sleek and modern minimalist, definitely Derek's taste. His room was nice, obviously it was bare because all his stuff had been lost in the fire, but it was spacious, with a nice bed and a large bookcase and a walk-in wardrobe. He walked down the hallway and into the refurbished bathroom, looking in the full-length mirror after he had stripped off and scrubbed the mud and blood from his body. He hadn't been able to do anything with his hair, it was beyond saving, he'd probably have to cut it all off. It was a shame. When he'd been able to keep it looked after, it’d looked quite nice longer. He glanced at his now clean but malnourished body, ribs clearly showing, stick thin and weak arms and legs.

He wrapped the towel that uncle Peter had given him around his protruding hipbones, but froze just before he opened the door. He didn't have any clothes to put on. All of them were completely shredded from where he'd shifted and ripped them apart, covered in his blood, and he'd destroyed his last change of clothes when he'd shifted after he'd been hit by Mrs Stilinski’s car.  
He jolted from his thoughts at as knock on the bathroom door. It was Scott.

“Hey Timmy, are you okay in there?”

“Yeah, it's just, I don't have any clothes to change into. They're all ripped apart.”

“No worries, I've got some old clothes in the back of my closet from before I was turned that you can have. I’ve bulked up a fair bit since then so they don’t fit anymore. They’ll still be quite roomy on you, but it's better than nothing.” He waited patiently and after adjusting the towel so it was secure around his waist, Timothy opened the door shyly, blushing red. Scott stood there, his crooked little smile in place, a faint red tinge of his cheeks too. He cleared his throat and gestured for Timothy to follow him. Scott's bedroom ended up being just across the hall to Timmy's, but it couldn't have been more different inside. Scott's walls were hung with rock band posters and framed photos of him and his loved ones. Magazines, dirty laundry, books, and CDs covered every available surface, including the floor, and there was even an acoustic guitar in the corner, next to a skateboard. Scott rubbed the back of his neck and looked around at the carnage.

“Sorry about the uhh... mess. People don't usually come in here.” He mumbled, as he started trying to shove things into drawers to clear some space. He made his way over to his own walk-in wardrobe and pulled out a suitcase from the back wall, lifting it up for Timothy.

“You're welcome to keep anything and everything you want from in here. We can stop off at the mall tomorrow morning if you feel up to it, to get you some more stuff, underwear, toiletries, shoes, books, bedsheets, anything you want. The entire Hale fortune now funds the pack, so the sky's the limit.” Scott spoke as they walked back across the hall to Timmy's bedroom. He lifted the bursting suitcase onto the bed and unzipped it. He frowned slightly as he looked at Timothy again. “Seriously, help yourself to whatever you want in here. It's yours. Now, get dressed and come downstairs for some food. We filled the pack in on most of your story, should save you from most of the intrusive questions. I hope that's okay.”

Timothy nodded and ran a hand through his hair, or tried to at least. His fingers got caught in the knots and he winced as it tugged hard.  
“If you wanted, I could try and brush that out for you downstairs. If you didn't want to cut it. I got quite good at it when I used to babysit kids at the weekends.”

“Sure, that'd be great. Thank you, Scott.” Scott turned away to give Timmy some privacy as he started shifting through the clothes in the suitcase, looking for something he could wear. Timmy could've sworn he saw Scott shudder out of the corner of his eye as he let the towel drop to the floor.

**Scott's POV**

Scott was fighting with his control. When he heard the towel drop, he tried very hard to not think about Timothy naked behind him. It was completely inappropriate. For starters, Scott was twenty, Timmy was seventeen. Then, there was the fact that he was related to two of his pack members, who would still gut him if he messed up even if he _was_ their Alpha. Then, there was the fact that Timothy had just suffered a severe trauma, and had been suffering pretty much constantly for the past decade. Then there was the fact that Scott couldn’t ever seem to keep someone. It always ended, and Scott didn't know if he could take it happening another time. And it wasn't fair to Timmy to build his hopes up only to disappoint him like that, like Scott always seemed to.

Timmy cleared his throat behind him, and Scott turned around. His throat went suddenly very dry, and his heartbeat sped up. Timothy had chosen a horizontally-striped short-sleeved t-shirt which was huge on him, the 'short' sleeves reaching nearly to his elbows. The hem probably would've gone past his butt, but he'd tucked it into a pair of blue denim jeans which he'd belted around his thin waist for a high-waisted trouser look, and he'd rolled up the legs of the jeans to just above his ankles. He looked like he'd just stepped out of a nineties magazine, and it looked amazing on him.

“You look... _Wow_.”

“What? Does it look that bad?”

“No, I mean... It's just... I guarantee those clothes look better on you now than they ever did on me.”

“My, my. Are you flirting with me, Scott McCall?”

“What on Earth gave you that idea?” Scott dismissed, way too quickly for it to be considered casual and offhand.

“Well... Your heartbeat is speeding up and you're blushing, but somehow you still smell calmer now than you did when I was wearing Theo's clothes, which tells me that it probably has something to do with a scent thing. You didn't like Theo's scent all over me. But you still seem fine now even though your heart is beating out your chest. So...” Unnoticed by Scott, Timmy had crept closer with each word, until he and Scott were standing only a few inches apart. Scott decided in that moment: _'fuck it'_. Why shouldn't he be happy? If something could happen with Timmy, he owed it to himself to explore it. They'd both had quite enough misery in their lives, this could make them both extremely happy, so why not? _‘Be brave, Scott'_ , he told himself.

“And if I... If I was f-flirting with you?”

“Then I'd say that I've been missing from society for ten years,” Scott's heart fell at Timmy's words. He'd taken a chance and he'd been rejected. Of course Timmy wouldn't be ready for romantic relationships yet. But then Timmy continued.

“And I haven't seen a movie in about five years, so I’ll need _someone_ to catch me up on things. So, how about a movie night in? I could make dinner for us?” Scott beamed at Timmy as he looked shyly up at Scott through his eyelashes, scuffing his feet on the floor nervously. Scott stepped forward and tested the waters by reaching out and tucking a tangled strand of hair behind Timothy's ear.

“Sounds perfect. Shall we go downstairs and get some pizza?” And Scott kissed him gently on the cheek as they walked out of the room, Scott darting into the bathroom to grab supplies and they went downstairs to join the rest of the pack.

*****

There was an awkward pause as Timothy Hale walked into the room. He smiled nervously at the pack, who were all scattered around the large space that combined the kitchen, dining room, and living room.

“Uh, hi. Ummmm, I'm Tim?”

Scott jumped in to rescue him as he floundered and pointed round to all the pack as he introduced them and told Timothy 'what' they were. Stiles and Derek he already knew, he'd met Lydia Martin but was introduced to her boyfriend Jordan Parrish. He knew Theo and Peter, but hadn't met Theo's boyfriend Liam Dunbar, or his friends Mason Hewitt and Corey Bryant, or Jackson and Ethan Whittemore (recently married), or Malia Hale, or Kira Yukimura. They all waved and smiled as they were introduced. Scott sat on the now scrubbed clean dining room table and turned a chair round in front of him so Timmy could sit in front of him for Scott to sort his hair out whilst still facing the pack so he could talk to them. Scott started trying to brush the tangles out gently, occasionally spraying in a bit of leave-in conditioner to help loosen the knots. Timmy kicked his feet gently backwards and forwards; he was so short that they couldn’t touch the floor. There was another awkward pause before Lydia spoke up.

“Scott and the others filled us in on most of what happened to you, we didn't think you'd want the full-on interrogation. I hope that’s okay.”

“Yeah, it's fine. I bet you guys all still have questions though. So ask away, I'll answer as much as I can, although I probably won't know everything.”

The pack seemed to have been waiting for Timmy to give permission before they started asking him things. Malia put her hand up.

“So you're a Hale, yeah?”

“Yep. Derek’s baby brother, Peter's nephew.”

“Awesome. I'm Peter’s daughter. So I guess that makes us cousins or something.”

“I have a cousin? That's awesome!” They smiled at each other. Kira was the next to speak.

“So, you're a chimera, right? Like Theo and Corey?”

“Yeah. Except I'm half-werewolf, half-kitsune.”

“Wow. Really? How many tails do you have? I have two.” She said proudly. “One from triggering my healing ability, and one from when I got control of my powers and escaped the Skinwalkers.” She held up two obsidian ninja-stars: her representational tails that could summon the Oni. When Scott’d given her the box that he'd kept her first tail in, she'd opened it to find two in there. It seemed that after you made the first one, the subsequent tails duplicated from the first one.

“Wow. Well, when I was turned into a chimera, I had already earned four tails. The Dread Doctors threw a lump of obsidian at me and told me to make my first representational tail. Theo helped me do it. They ended up being karambit knives. But when I escaped the Dread Doctors, I didn't have them with me. I expect they're gone for good now.” He shrugged. Theo stood up and produced a medium-sized wooden box from the table next to him.

“They’re not gone for good.” He handed Timmy the box, who took it with shaking hands, staring up at Theo with wide eyes.

“You kept them safe? All that time? For me?”

“Of course I did. You're my best friend. Well, one of them now anyway.” He smiled and bent down to kiss Timmy on the top of his head. Scott had to be careful not to let a jealous growl escape his mouth. He wasn't altogether sure he succeeded because Theo and Timmy both looked up and around at him, Timmy with his shy smile, and Theo with a confused look that turned to a sinister smirk of realisation. He said nothing however, which Scott was thankful for.

Timmy, meanwhile, had turned back to the box and opened it, holding up a glinting black curved dagger.

“One, two, three, four, five, six... They're all here. That's incredible.”

“I stowed them in that box and told myself that the next person to open it would be you when I found you and could give them back to you. The Dread Doctors never even knew I had them. They thought you’d escaped with them.”

Timothy stood up and set the box on the table before he turned and pulled Theo into an emotional hug. Scott looked over at Liam and saw that he too was looking at Theo and Timmy with a jealous glare, concealed even worse than Scott's was. Maybe he thought that there had been something going on between Theo and Timmy while they were with The Dread Doctors together. Scott's stomach turned over at the thought. What if they _had_ been a couple? What if, now they were reunited, it felt like unfinished business, and they decided that they wanted to be together? Scott shook his head away from that thought. Why would Timmy say yes to a date with him if he wanted to be with Theo? It didn't make any sense, so Scott pushed it from his mind. Theo and Timmy's hug broke and Kira spoke again.

“You have _six_ tails? That's remarkable. How did you earn them?”

Timmy squirmed uncomfortably at the question. Scott, already knowing how, couldn't blame him. It must have been horrible enough for him to tell everyone at the animal clinic. Reliving it again so soon after he had had to the first time would be awful for him. He tapped Timmy gently on the top of the head with the hairbrush as he stood up.

“Hey. You don't have to say anything you don't want to, remember? You don't have to tell them.” He shook his head gently.

“No. It's okay. If I'm to be part of the pack, they deserve to know who they're associating with.” Scott opened his mouth to object, but Timothy practically begged him with his eyes to stop. He smiled at Scott; a silent thank you and a promise that he would let Scott take care of him if he panicked and broke down. Scott was determined that that wouldn't happen in the first place, so he led Timmy over to the kitchen island and had him lie down on it so that his head was hanging back into the sink. He squirted some of his shampoo into his hands and massaged it gently into Timmy's hair and scalp as Timmy retold how he earned all his tails. The others were shocked into silence at the end of his story, Timmy relaxing more as Scott rinsed his hair off and put in a heavy-duty conditioner, rinsing that off too after it had soaked in a bit. He then sat Timmy up to gently towel dry his hair, before giving him a hand down from the counter to sit back where they were before so he could brush through it again.

Corey got up and loaded a plate high with pizza and salad and brought it over, handing it to Timmy with a smile.

“Eat. You look hungry.”

“Thank you, Mr Corey, sir.”

“Just 'Corey' is fine.” He smiled again as Timmy nodded hesitantly and dug into the food with a couple of tentative bites.

“All done.” Scott said with satisfaction as he set the hairbrush down and handed Timmy a mirror. “I had to trim it up just a little bit, because there were a lot of split ends. What do you think?” Timmy grinned at Scott in the reflection, and Scott felt a little bubble of pride rise in his chest at the thought that Timmy thought he did a good job.

“Where did you learn all that?” Scott thought about not answering, but decided that he wanted Timmy to know the truth.

“Back in the day, me and my mum were pretty poor, so we cut out expenses that we could avoid. We both learned to cut hair so we didn't have to pay for them, and then we ran it as a tiny business on the side to get some more money in.” Timmy tipped his head back and smiled up at him, understanding that Scott trusted him enough to share something that made him feel vulnerable.

The pack didn't question Timmy any more about his experiences, which Scott was relieved at, and they all sat down to watch Moana on the huge TV, except Peter, who left to go home to his husband (they lived in Argent's house), with promises that he would come round the next day to check in.

It was Corey's turn to choose the movie. Scott would've rolled his eyes and protested at the choice of movie, Corey chose it almost every single time, but in the end, he didn't end up watching the movie so much as watching Timmy watch the movie, how he reacted to the songs and Maui's character, and the part where Moana’s grandma's ghost comes to see her and turns into a stingray. He actually had tears running down his face when Moana gave Te Fiti her heart back and sang 'I Know Who You Are', and Scott thought that maybe he actually loved this movie after all.

Scott vowed to himself to show Timmy every single Disney movie he missed, and all the Harry Potter movies. All the superhero movies Timmy wanted, anything and everything he wanted to see.

The pack started filing upstairs to go to bed (either to have sex or actually go to sleep; Scott just thanked God for the invention of the supernatural-strength soundproofing which lined all the bedrooms), but Timmy remained sat on the sofa, just relaxing and running a hand through his now untangled, beautifully-thick curly hair.

“Are you coming up?” Scott asked, leaning sideways against the wall.

“In a bit. Just want to sit and relax for a little bit longer.”

“Okay. Well, goodnight, Timmy. Sleep well.”

“You too, Scott. Thank you again... for everything.” Timmy got up and walked towards Scott, hugging him tightly and kissing him on the cheek.

“You’re welcome, Timmy.” As soon as Scott was safe in his bedroom, he leaned back against the closed door, touching the spot on his cheek where Timmy had kissed him, where he swore he could still feel the ghost of his lips and he breathed out a deep sigh and spoke to his empty room.

“Fucking hell, now I'm in trouble.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will things settle down for the supernaturals of Beacon Hills the morning after Timothy Hale's arrival or will things continue to spiral?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to lie, this chapter was difficult for me to write. Some of the things I'm writing about in this story come from my own nightmares and experiences, so writing them down is a form of therapy for me, but it is also very difficult because it does drudge up things that I have tried to forget. Nevertheless, I hope you guys, gals, and non-binary pals enjoy this continuation of the story.
> 
> Trigger warnings for panic attacks, self-harm, suicidal thoughts, suicide attempts, nightmares, and parental abuse. Stay safe, beautiful people.
> 
> T xxx

**Derek's POV**

Derek would never get tired of this feeling. Waking up with sunlight breaking through the gap in the bedroom curtains, falling softly onto Stiles' pale skin. His hair was fluffy and stickng up at odd angles, and very loud and inelegant snores were coming from his open mouth, his head resting on the back of Derek’s neck. But the snores didn’t bother Derek, nor did the the fact that Stiles kicked Derek in his sleep or that he hogged all the sheets.

Because despite all of those petty things, Derek loved him, and Stiles loved him back, and Derek wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to the feeling of being so unconditionally adored. Every time Stiles woke up, went to sleep, or smiled at him, Derek felt like he was falling in love all over again. And when Stiles had proposed to him, Derek (who always managed to maintain a stoic and tough exterior) burst into tears. Ugly, emotional sobs that were completely unlike him, his hands shaking so bad that Stiles had struggled to get the engagement ring on, but Stiles had just beamed at him, slipped the ring on, and kissed him.

Derek had gone out the next day and bought Stiles a matching ring, wanting everyone to know that Stiles was his as much as he was Stiles’. He'd seen Derek at his best and he had seen him at his worst, but Stiles loved him anyway.

Sometimes Derek got insecure, about his past and the darkness that had surrounded his life for so long, but Stiles chased it away, holding him close at night when Derek’s nightmares got too much. That’s not to say that Stiles didn’t have his own stuff to deal with. The Nogitsune possessing his body had changed him, probably forever. He still didn’t always trust himself around other people, always scared that he would hurt them. Even if he didn’t say so, Stiles blamed himself for his mother’s death, and after The Ghost Riders, he woke up screaming in abject terror some nights, thinking that he would wake up the next morning and that everyone would have forgotten him again.

Derek lifted his hands up so he could look at the ring on his left hand. It was a beautiful thing: white gold, with a small diamond in the centre of each of the three spirals that made up a triskele engraved into the ring, which twinkled in the morning sun. Derek felt Stiles' head shift and nuzzle against the back of his neck, pressing soft, gentle kisses there.

“Morning, Sourwolf.” Derek preened at the attention.

“That was some day yesterday, wasn't it?” Derek nodded and sighed, turning over to face Stiles, weaving their fingers together in between them.

“How are you doing with everything?” The concern in Stiles' voice made Derek sigh and cuddle Stiles into his chest.

“As well as can be expected, I suppose. I saw my baby brother, the kid I protected for the first seven years of his life, for the first time in a decade yesterday, after I thought he'd been killed in the fire. The last thing I said to him was that I would always be there to protect him, and for the next ten years he was kidnapped, abused, tortured, starved, experimented on, and homeless. And honestly, I feel like he's not told us everything. I feel like he hasn't told us the worst of it. I know that what happened to him is not my fault, but I can't help feeling like I failed to protect him, that maybe if I'd done more, he would've been safe.”

“You can’t think like that, Der. You know that there was nothing you could’ve done. The important thing is, your brother is safe now, and we can keep it that way. Together. We will help keep him safe, it doesn’t have to be solely down to you to protect him now. He has all of us. And if he _hasn’t_ told us everything they did to him, can we really blame him? The poor kid is going to be traumatised, it might take time before he’s ready to talk about it.”

“Yeah, I know. I just wish I could take all these horrible things that have happened to him and make them disappear.” Stiles smiled at him and kissed him on the nose.

“You’re a good brother, Der-bear.”

Derek sniffed the air. It smelled like someone was cooking breakfast.

“Come on, let’s get dressed. Someone’s got breakfast going.”

Stiles and Derek went about their usual morning routine: sharing a shower (and some shower sex that would leave Stiles walking funny for a while), getting dressed side by side in the walk-in closet, sharing a quick peck on the lips, before walking out of their bedroom hand-in-hand.

The rest of the pack was emerging from their respective bedrooms as well, some fully dressed and looking energised for the day ahead, some of them in their pyjamas and rubbing sleep from their eyes, and some (Stiles, Theo, Jackson, and Ethan) were silent, moody, and basically catatonic until they had food and/or coffee in their systems.

They were greeted by the enticing smells of warm pancakes as they walked downstairs and they saw Timmy piling them into massive stacks ready to serve.

“Morning everyone! Come get your pancakes. Now, I didn't know what type of pancakes everyone liked so we've got blueberry and banana, chocolate chip, cinnamon and apple, white chocolate and raspberry, coconut and macadamia nut, and plain as well. And to put on top, we have a load of fresh fruit here, freshly whipped cream, crushed walnuts, homemade chocolate sauce, berry compote, maple syrup, and there's smoky bacon keeping warm in the oven. And there’s a lot of coffee brewing on the side as well.” He pointed at each thing as he listed them off, faltering at their shocked faces.

“Uh, if you guys don’t fancy pancakes, just give me a minute and I can fry some eggs and sausages up...”

“No, it's not that, this all looks incredible, but—” Stiles said, stepping towards Timmy, “but when on Earth did you get time to make all this? And where did you get ingredients from? You must have been up half the night!”

“Nah, I just had a bit of trouble sleeping, don't sleep much in general, really. Besides it was nearly dawn when I woke up, so I packed some clothes in my rucksack, shifted and went on a run, finishing at the twenty-four hour supermarket, bought some ingredients with the money I kept in my bag and walked back here. Now, dig in, before it gets cold. I’ve got to finish this.” And he shrugged and picked up a shirt and started scrubbing it with a cloth. Derek realised that it was the shirt he had been wearing yesterday, the one that had got blood all over it. Derek smelled lemon juice and seltzer water, Timmy was using the old trick that their mum had taught them for getting blood out of clothes.

“Hey, Tim. It's fine, you don't have to do that.”

“It's fine, Der. I've just got this one left to do anyway. The other stuff I got blood on are already waiting in the washer.”

“Okay, well. Thanks Timmy, but you really didn’t have to do that, or any of this. But thank you. Everything looks great.” Timmy beamed at the praise and went back to scrubbing peacefully, letting the ohers tuck in to their food. Derek piled a plate with blueberry and banana pancakes and also some of the coconut and macadamia ones, topped them off with the freshly whipped cream, berry compote, and crushed walnuts, and went to sit down at one of the tall stools at the end of the kitchen island, ruffling Tim’s hair as he went by.  
Derek watched closely as he ate, and he saw Scott shuffle towards Tim, almost shyly, and saw him bend down to talk into his ear. Derek knew he shouldn't really, it wasn't polite, but he focussed his hearing so he could overhear what was being said.

“So... If you haven't got anything planned today—” Scott whispered.

“I don't.” Tim answered, smiling at the corner of his mouth.

“Well, I seem to remember promising to take you shopping today, and I was thinking... If you'd like, that is, that _maybe_ we could get lunch at a café or a restaurant in town and turn it into a first date?” Scott mumbled, blushing a little. Timothy whipped around in shock to stare open-mouthed at him, but ended up tripping over his own feet and falling down. Scott caught him round the waist, and set him back on his feet.

“Already falling for me, are ya, Hale?” Scott smirked, looking fondly down at Timmy, who was spluttering in shock.

“Y-you want to g-go out on a d-d-date with _me_?” Timothy sounded shocked, his voice coming out in an awed squeak as though he couldn't believe his luck. Scott nodded sincerely.

“Yes. I really really do.”

“Oh.” Timothy's voice shook slightly, clearly too shocked to say anything else. Scott's heartbeat faltered and then started to climb.

“You don’t want to, do you?” Scott sagged disconsolately. “I just thought... I don't know. It might be fu – but if you don't want to, I mean, I get it, why would you? But, after what we said to each other yesterday – I don't know what I was thinking, I'm sorry I bothered you. God, I'm so stupid, why did I think I deserved this? You, I mean. I'm just gonna go. I'm gonna go for a run. Running’s good. Good exercise. Goodie goodie good good.” Scott was having a panic attack, and a really fucking bad one at that, breaking out in a cold sweat and gripping his hair with one hand as he backed away slowly, turning to leg it out the door. The rest of the pack picked up on his mood and turned around to see what had Scott so torn up inside. He hadn't smelled or sounded this awful and anguished since the morning after the _incident_ when they'd found him with the gun. It made them all very worried.

But Timmy walked forward and stood in front of Scott, gently prying his fingers (which had his claws out on them) from his hair and held his hand between them, stroking the back of it softly with his thumb. The claws receded slowly, but Scott's breathing didn't slow down at all.

“I can't... I ca-I can't...” Scott’s breaths came in great heaving gasps, and he fell to his knees. Timmy kneeled down beside him, and cradled his face gently in his hands, turning Scott's head gently so that his watery eyes were looking directly at Timmy's face.

“You didn't even give me time to answer, Scott.” Timmy whispered softly, and with that, he leaned in and pressed his lips ever so gently into Scott's in a soft kiss. Scott's eyes bulged wide in shock, but he then closed them and leaned into the kiss more, breaking it after a little bit and leaning his forehead against Timmy's, his eyes still closed and his breathing slowed right down.

“I'm sorry, I don't know what happened.” Scott mumbled as Timmy pulled him into a hug on the floor, rubbing soothing circles into his back, both of them completely unaware of the pack staring agape at them, Liam passing a smirking Theo a twenty dollar bill silently.

“Ssshhh, it's okay. You're alright. I was going to say yes, you know that, right? I was just shocked that you'd want to actually go out with me, that's all.”

“But why would that surprise you?” Scott looked genuinely confused.

“Look at me, Scott. And then look at you. You're like this handsome, smart, kind, and gentle guy, and I'm just a scarred, disfigured kid with one eye and nothing much to offer you. I – you deserve someone amazing and gorgeous and someone that can be everything that someone as good as you deserves. I'm just... me.”

“Exactly, you're you. We both deserve happiness; you're enough for me by just being you. I think you could make me happy, and I hope I can make you happy. I want to make you happy.”

“But...why?” Tim asked him, looking mystified.

“Because I think you're beautiful.” Scott said candidly, as though it was the simplest thing in the world. This time it was Scott that leaned in, placing his hand gently on the back of Timmy's neck and tilting his head to press slightly more firmly into the kiss.

Derek thought that maybe this could be a good thing for both of them. They'd both suffered and been deprived of happiness in their lives; Derek hoped that they could heal each other, make each other whole again.

Timmy sighed heavily, neither he nor Scott breaking the contact between their lips. Derek cleared his throat loudly and they broke apart suddenly, both of them blushing furiously.

“Sooooo...” Timmy scratched the back of his neck self-consciously. Scott scrambled to his feet, and held out a hand to help Tim up. Neither of them let go of the other's hand , and they stood in front of everyone else nervously, as if awaiting judgement. Parrish checked his watch as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened, and Timmy and Scott both seemed to relax a bit.

“I’ve got to get to the station for my shift. Derek? Theo? You coming?” Derek and Theo both stood up. After the Anuk-Ite and the hunters had all been dealt with, Derek had settled down into a job as a deputy at the Sheriff's station, and Theo had taken his exams quickly and passed his high school diploma with flying colours, getting a job as a receptionist at the Sheriff’s station.

Derek didn't want to leave. He felt like he ought to say something to Scott and Tim, but he didn’t know what. Maybe say that he supports them? That he's happy for them? That he's okay with them dating?

“Ummmm sure, in a minute, Jordan. Just... Uh, Tim, Scott, could I talk to you two for just a second?” They shuffled their feet and walked away from the others over to the living room for some privacy.

“Look, Derek, I'm sorry about this. I know he's your broth—”

“What on Earth are you sorry for?” Derek frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. Scott bowed his head.

“He's your baby brother. I'm your Alpha. And I'm older than him, you're going to think it's inappropriate. That I'm—”

“He is my baby brother. And you are my Alpha. But more than that, you are also one of my best friends, Scott. I care about you and I care about my brother. The age difference isn't even that big. It's the same as Theo and Liam. There's a bigger age difference between Stiles and me. It's no big deal. Look, I love you both, you're my family. Just – look after each other, okay? You could both do with a bit of happiness in your lives.” Derek brought them both in for a hug and patted them on the shoulders. He spoke to Tim.

“Look, I've got to get to the station, okay? But it sounds like you and Scott will be just fine by yourselves.” He said with a small wink at them. “I’ll try and get you two the place to yourselves tonight, get the pack to go bowling or something, give you two some time to be alone. We won't be back until late.” Timmy called him back as he made to walk away.

“Der?”

“Yes, Tim?” Timothy walked forward and hugged him tightly.

“Thank you. For... I don't know. Just thank you. And... I love you.”

“I love you too, buddy.” Derek kissed the top of his head, smiled, and turned to walk away with Jordan and Theo, the latter calling out over his shoulder at Scott.

“Look after each other. Have fun today!”

**Scott's POV**

It was Friday that day, so after all the 'pups' (Liam, Mason, and Corey) had gone to school, it was just Scott, Stiles, Lydia, Jax, Ethan, Malia, Kira, and Timmy left at home. Timmy and the girls were talking more about his kitsune powers in the living room, while Scott, Stiles, Jackson and Ethan chatted at the dining table. Eventually, Stiles and Lydia left to go to the library to do some research for some project or other, and Scott took this as his cue to walk up behind Timmy and sling his arms around his neck from behind.

“Hey. When do you wanna go shopping?” Scott mumbled into the back of his neck.

“Let's go now. I just gotta get dressed. Come with me.” Timmy stood up and pulled Scott with him upstairs and towards his bedroom. The bed was exactly as it was yesterday, the suitcase of clothes still open on the perfectly clean (and clearly unused) bed.

“You didn't sleep at all last night, did you?” Scott said indignantly.

“I snoozed a little bit on the sofa, but I really didn't feel tired.” Scott heard the skip in his heartbeat, catching him in the lie and raising his eyebrows. Timmy sagged in defeat, realising that he had been caught out.

“Okay, fine. I just couldn't sleep. It's just... I couldn't close my eyes without seeing everything again. Without seeing that hunter’s body in front of me, so much blood. And Papa... I kept seeing him. Him, but all burned and decayed-looking, and he kept saying that I was just a stupid little faggot of a kid, and that he was going to wait until mum had gone out and then dump me in the river.”

Scott gathered Timmy into his arms, squeezing him tightly and comforting him.

“Sssshhh, it's okay. You’re okay, Timmy. You're safe now, your father can’t hurt you anymore. But you need to sleep, okay? You need to take care of yourself. And if you ever can't get to sleep or you have bad dreams, you come and you wake me up and I'll chase them all away.” Timmy sniffled slightly and pulled away.

“You know the same goes for you, right? I could smell you from downstairs last night, you woke up terrified in the middle of the night and you didn't have anyone to come and hold you and tell you that everything was alright. But now you have me. We take care of each other. It's got to be a two-way street. You take care of everyone else, I reckon it's time you had someone to take care of you too.”

Scott didn't expect for Timothy's words to resonate so deeply with him, for them to affect him so much, but he felt tears prickling at the back of his eyes as he realised the truth of Timmy's words, as he realised that _yes_ , he _did_ want someone to take care of him once in a while, to hold him and comfort him. He wanted it _so desperately_. Now Timmy was the one hugging him, and when they pulled apart, they both leaned in for a sweet and tender kiss. If Scott had thought that the first two kisses they'd shared had been good, this one ROCKED. HIS. WORLD.

The sheer amount of affection and caring that Scott felt from Timmy left him light-headed and gasping for more. It felt as though everything he knew about romance and love had been shot to Hell, and that _this kiss_ , _this one kiss_ redefined it all. Scott felt like he was flying and like he was falling at the same time, and he knew that he _was_ falling. He was falling _hard_ for Timothy Hale; maybe he'd already fallen completely. That thought terrified Scott more than he could say; what if it turned out like the last four times? What if Timmy didn’t feel as strongly as Scott was starting to? What if Timmy left, just like everyone else?

They carried on kissing, and Scott ran his tongue along the seam of Timmy's lips, silently asking him for permission. Timmy opened his mouth and his tongue came out to brush against Scott's, and suddenly they were pressing firmly into each other's bodies, holding each other up as they rode on the wave of their intense passion. Timmy’s hands were in Scott's hair, gripping tightly and pulling his head closer so they could deepen their kiss even more, and Scott’s hands were on Timmy's back pulling him impossibly closer, their bodies slotting together so perfectly that it was as though they were made for each other.

Neither of them realised that they were moving until the back of Timmy’s knees hit the edge of the bed and Scott fell forward with Timmy underneath him, knocking the suitcase of clothes to the floor. Now they were lying on the bed kissing, with tongues exploring each other’s mouths, and Scott held himself up on his elbows so he could look down at Timmy’s face.

The pupil of his good eye was blown wide with arousal and he was breathing very heavily. His thick, curly hair fanned out on the bed around his head with a few strands going across his face. Even the twisting and pulling of the huge scar on his face looked beautiful to Scott. In fact, in that moment, Scott didn’t think he’d seen anything so captivating in his entire life. He must have said that out loud, because Timmy blushed furiously, and started squirming at the attention. Scott brushed the strands of hair off his face and placed a kiss right over the scar.

“Maybe we should get up.” Timmy said quietly. Scott nodded and moved to let Timmy sit up, but he couldn't help feeling a little disappointed.

“It’s not that I wasn't enjoying what we were doing, because I _definitely_ was, but I already had my first real kiss this morning, maybe we could take things slow and work out way up to the other first things? If you'd be okay with that?” He sounded so self-conscious and unsure, Scott couldn't help but smile. It wasn't surprising to Scott that Timmy wasn't used to positive attention and good feelings with everything he'd been through, it was bound to all be quite overwhelming for him to go from nothing and no-one, to finding what was left of his family, having a home to go back to, and gaining friends and a boyfriend. Scott's heart jumped at the thought. He was very nervous about defining their relationship so early, especially if it didn't work out, but _god dammit,_ Scott wanted it to work _so badly_ it hurt. And the thought of Timmy being his _boyfriend_ made Scott feel so good inside.

“Of course, Tim. We don't have to do anything right away.” Scott said, with a little peck to his lips. “I didn't know that it was your first kiss, though.”

“Well I didn't exactly have time to make out with boys when I was kidnapped, did I?” Timmy joked, rolling his eyes. “Who did you think it could have been?”

“Theo?” Scott mumbled, shrugging.

“What? Eeeeeewww no! We protected each other, we were friends, practically family. Nothing romantic between us at all. Pinkie promise.” He stuck out his little finger and wiggled it at Scott who rolled his eyes and linked his own little finger with Timmy's, smiling.

“I don't know what to wear today, though.” Timmy frowned, biting his bottom lip in deep thought. “Help me pick something out?”  
Scott bit his lip hesitantly.

“I actually had an idea about that, if you'd be okay with it?”

“What is it?”

“Wait here.” Scott nipped into the hallway and across into his own bedroom, grabbing the old garment from a hanger in his closet. He returned to Timmy's bedroom with the bundle held gingerly in his hands, and he handed it over to Timmy.

“It’s my old lacrosse varsity jacket from Beacon Hills High School. I was thinking that maybe you'd like to wear it?” Timmy held it up to his nose.

“It smells like you.”

“That’s the idea. Partly, at least. Look, I know we haven't even known each other long, like at all, but I think we both know that we can have something good here. And my wolf side, I guess it already feels pretty possessive and protective of you, but it feels good when you've got my scent on you. Like yesterday, when you were wearing my clothes, it made the wolf in me feel peaceful and quiet. It's like marking my territory or something like that. Maybe it sounds lame, I don't know. But I’d like to see it on you. Let everyone know that we're together – if you want people to know, that is. Do you even want to be _together_ together? I don't know, are you okay with people knowing? I'd like to show you off. Plus, I think that it’d just look really nice on you.”

“Scott, baby, you're rambling.” Timmy stroked his cheek and smiled.

“I know. I know I am. But is it something that you'd be okay with? I'm already out of the closet as bi, but I don't know if you're okay with people knowing or making assumptions about your sexuality. And the varsity jacket – is it too much too soon? You said you didn't want to rush things... And I don't want _you_ to feel like _I_ feel like I have some sort of ownership over you, like you're my property or something, because you're not. You're your own person. You're not something to own. But like I said, it's like a protective wolf instinct or something. So... what do you think?”

“I think it's cute that you're protective over me already. And the varsity jacket is nice, I like it. And of course I want to be _together_ together with you. Like in a boyfriend and boyfriend way. If that would be something that you’d want too?” He said, wrapping his arms around Scott’s waist and snuggling into his chest, his _boyfriend’s_ chest. Scott just hoped that Timmy couldn’t hear how fast his heart was thudding in his chest. Timmy wanted to be his boyfriend. Better yet, he had put the idea forward, not Scott. So he obviously wanted this as much as Scott did, and Scott’s heart leaped around in his chest, rejoicing. Timmy pulled out of the hug, glancing the suitcase where they had knocked it off the bed.

“What should I wear the jacket with, though?”

“How about the black tank top and the denim shorts? It's quite hot out, we don't want you to overheat too much.”

“Sounds good.” Timmy gathered the items up off the floor and headed to the walk-in closet, dragging Scott with him, who picked up the rest of the clothes from the suitcase on his way.

Scott turned away to give his boyfriend some privacy as he changed out of his pyjamas, focussing instead on hanging the other clothes up or putting them away in drawers. Scott felt Timmy's fingers thread through his and turned to look at him.

Timmy was staring awkwardly at his feet as Scott glanced over his appearance, trying to commit the sight to memory as well as he could. The tank top was big on him, the neckline hanging low and revealing the top of his chest and collarbones. There was a big, long, jagged scar running right down the middle of his chest; that must have been the scar from where the Dread Doctors had transplanted the lung into him. Scott felt bad immediately; Timmy was probably really nervous about people seeing his scars. Timmy smiled shyly at him though, as if to say that it didn't bother him as long as it didn't bother Scott. The denim shorts were acid-washed blue, and reached Timmy's knees (even though they'd been quite short on Scott). Scott focussed his gaze on his varsity jacket that Timothy was indeed wearing. It was hugely oversized, the bottom of it going well past his butt and nearly reaching his knees, and the sleeves were so long that Timmy pushed them up to his elbows so he had the use of his hands.

Scott found himself noticing two scars that he hadn't registered before. They looked deep, rough and jagged, and ran from halfway up his forearms all the way down to the wrist on each arm. These weren't the scars of torture or accidental injury. These were deliberate and (Scott's heart plummeted) self-inflicted.

Timmy froze like a deer in headlights when he noticed where Scott was looking. He hurriedly shoved the sleeves back down his arms so that the cuffs went past his fingertips and backed away, bumping into the closet wall behind him. He looked absolutely stricken.  
Scott walked towards him, wanting to reassure him, but Timmy shrank in on himself, curling up in a ball against the wall with a little yelp of pure terror. Scott froze, crouching down a few feet away from him. He didn't want to scare him even more by going any closer, but he didn’t know how else he could comfort him. So he did the only thing that popped into his head. He started singing.

_“There was a time I was alone,_  
_No place to go and nowhere to call home._  
_My only friend was The Man In The Moon,_  
_Even sometimes he would go away too._

_Then one night as I closed my eyes,_  
_I saw a shadow flying high._  
_He came to me with the sweetest smile,_  
_Told me he wanted to talk for a while._

_He said, 'Peter Pan, that's what they call me,_  
_I promise that you'll never be lonely'._

_And ever since that day..._

_I am a Lost Boy, from Neverland,_  
_Usually hangin' out with Peter Pan,_  
_And when we're bored we play in the woods,_  
_Always on the run from Captain Hook._

_'Run, Run, Lost Boy’, they say to me,_  
_Away from all of reality._

_Neverland is home to Lost Boys like me,_  
_And Lost Boys like me are free.”_

Scott helped Timmy to his feet at this point and held him close, swaying gently on the spot. They started slow-dancing as Scott went into the second verse.

_“He sprinkled me in pixie dust and told me to believe,_  
_Believe in him and believe in me._  
_Together we will fly away in a cloud of green,_  
_To your beautiful destiny._

_As we soared above the town that never loved me,_  
_I realised I finally had a family._  
_Soon enough we reached Neverland._  
_Peacefully, my feet hit the sand._

_And ever since that day..._

_I am a Lost Boy, from Neverland,_  
_Usually hangin' out with Peter Pan._  
_And when we're bored we play in the woods,_  
_Always on the run from Captain Hook._

_'Run, Run, Lost Boy’, they say to me,_  
_Away from all of reality._

_Neverland is home to Lost Boys like me,_  
_And Lost Boys like me are free._

_Neverland is home to Lost Boys like me,_  
_And Lost Boys like me are free.”_

Timmy drew in a shaky breath as he looked up at Scott.

“Feel better now?”

“Yeah. I just got freaked out when you saw them. Didn't want you think I’m even weaker than you already do. So I hid them.”

“You. Aren’t. Weak. The fact that you are still here, even with the scars, shows me that you are a _survivor_ , you’re so strong. Everything you’ve been through could have defeated you, and definitely would have deafeated most other people, but it didn’t defeat you. It couldn’t defeat you. And that tells me, honestly, that you have got to be one of the strongest people I know. You don’t ever have to be ashamed or embarassed of your scars, because they show everyone that you survived.”

“Thank you, Scott.” Timmy leaned his head aginst Scott’s chest. “You have a really nice voice.”

“My mum always used to sing to me when I was sad, I thought it was worth a shot. Do you want to talk about them?”

“Not really. I might be ready to one day, but I can’t right now.”

“Okay. Just know that I’ve been to that place as well, where it didn’t feel worth it anymore. Where it felt like the best thing would be to not exist anymore. And if you ever decide that you do want to talk about it, I need you to know that I am here for you, day or night.”

“You've been there? Really?”

“Yeah, absolutely. But because of the werewolf healing, it didn't work, and nobody noticed because there were no scars, so nobody knew that I was hurting and needing someone to talk to.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don’t be, I'm slowly getting better. I still have bad days, and a lot of them, but I'm getting there. The pack is an amazing support system, even if they're slightly invasive. Theo, Stiles, and your brother, in particular, are probably the best people to talk to though. They're really good listeners, and they understand what it's like to go to that dark place. It took me a while to let anyone in, though, to accept that I couldn't sort it out on my own, because I was so determined to not burden anyone else with my problems. But it turns out that taking that step and actually _talking_ to them was the best thing that I could have done, it ended up being the greatest strength, finding that trust and love within the pack that I couldn't find in myself.”

“That's good, that you have a support system. And if _you_ ever want to talk about things like that, I’m always here too.”

“Thanks, Tim.” Scott kissed him on the nose and Timmy giggled, breaking the cloud of melancholy tension in the air and lightening the mood.

“So... Shall we go shopping? And then if the pack isn’t here this evening, I'll cook dinner for us, and we can watch another movie maybe?”

“Sounds perfect.” Scott leaned in, smiling, catching Timmy in a chaste kiss. “And who knows? Maybe you'll even get another song out of me later?”

“I'd like that. But one problem: I don’t have any shoes. I shredded my only pair when I transformed after your mum ran me over.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that, by the way. What size are you, do you know?”

“About a size seven or eight, I think?”

“Hold on a sec.” Scott pulled his phone out and fired off a quick text. The reply came within a minute or so.

“Corey says you can borrow a pair of his flip-flops or something until we get some for you later, okay? You're the same shoe size as him.”

“Okay. Tell him thank you for me.” Scott nodded and sent the text, pocketing his phone afterwards.

“So? Shall we go? We can get some lunch while we're out.”

“Yeah. Let's go, Scotty.” Scott stared at Timmy when he said this. “What?” Timmy looked confused.

“You called me Scotty.”

“Yeah, I heard Stiles call you Scotty earlier and thought it sounded cute, so I thought I'd try it out. But if pet names aren't your thing or it's just a 'you-and-Stiles' thing, that's cool.”

"No, not at all.” Scott blushed. “I actually really like it when you call me Scotty. And pet names are cute too.”

“Okay, cool. Then let's go, Scotty.”

And Timmy grinned broadly at Scott as he grasped his boyfriend’s hand in his and walked out of the closet, towards their first date, and Scott (for the first time in a while) felt hopeful for the future.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott McCall and Timothy Hale go shopping, leading Timmy to discover that Beacon Hills knows about the supernatural. However, that is not the only revelation the young couple have that day. What will be revealed? Will Timmy and Scott be able to cope? And what is Theo not telling Scott about Timmy's time with the Dread Doctors?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I want to apologise for not having updated this story literally in ages. Unfortunately I suffered a major relapse with my mental health and it's only recently that I've been able to face writing again. I'm doing better now, and I've got an amazing support system in my life. I'm just sorry if I have let anyone down who has been waiting for another chapter. I hope that you can forgive me and continue to enjoy my stories.
> 
> T xxx

**Timothy's POV**

Scott drove them to the mall in Stiles' borrowed jeep, and honestly, Timmy was scared that it was going to fall apart the entire time (there were some very disconcerting noises coming from the engine), but 'Roscoe' (because apparently the Jeep was Stiles's baby so it needed a name) just about held itself together, though privately Timmy and Scott both agreed that it was probably only due to the duct tape.

As they walked around, Timmy could feel eyes on him, and he kept looking up to see people looking quickly away when they noticed him looking.

“Scott?”

“Yeah?”

“People are staring at us.”

“Yeah, I know.” Scott grumbled. “Just because they find out you’re a werewo—”

“Wait, WHAT?! People know about the supernatural? What about hunters? How are any of you still alive? Come on, if we leave now, we might be able to get the pack out of town in time—” Timmy was tugging on Scott's arm, attempting to drag him out of the shopping centre, but was failing miserably in his attempt to shift the taller boy. He kept on trying though; he had to get Scott out of the mall! There were too many possible attack points in there, and then they had to get hold of the pack and find a safe house... What if they were followed?

“Zorrito, it's okay. Beacon Hills found out about the supernatural months ago, when we were dealing with Monroe and the hunters. I figured somebody would've told you. Didn't mean to scare you.”

“So the entire population of Beacon Hills is just okay with werewolves and crap running round?”

“God, no. Most people are fine with it, but you get those who side with hunters like the Calaveras, although Chris Argent manages to stop most of that. People are assholes and try to ostracise us and make us feel isolated, but it's the minority of people, and to be honest, most of that minority are too scared shitless to say or do anything to piss us off. Mostly, people are just nosy as hell, and want to know more about it.”

“Oh.”

People were still openly staring at Timmy, and he untied his hair and let it fall down and hide the scarred side of his face, moving closer towards Scott, using him as a human shield from the attention. He felt Scott growl menacingly at their spectators, and they all scurried about returning to their business. Scott huffed in annoyance as he turned round and hugged Timmy to his chest.

“Hey, if this is all getting too much for you, we can come back another time. They're just staring because you're the new person that's hanging with the Alpha werewolf.”

“Yeah, I guess. I'm fine. Let's go shopping. I'm not going to let a few staring people ruin my first date with a great guy.”

“I can't say I blame them for staring, though,” Scott said, pressing a feather-light kiss to Timmy's forehead, “Because, to me, you’re the most beautiful thing in the world, so why wouldn't they stare?”

“Scott McCall, you are a sappy romantic.”

“Yeah, I kinda am.” Scott scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. Timmy stood on his tip-toes so he could kiss Scott properly on the lips.

“I like that about you. Don't ever change.”

“Only if you never change. Pinkie promise?” Scott held up his little finger, wiggling it in front of his face. Timmy giggled and linked his own pinkie finger with Scott's.

“Pinkie promise. Now, what should we look for first?”

*****

“No, Scott. Really, it's too much. I can't let you pay for that.”

“It's a gift. Please, let me do this for you.” Scott held up the shiny new mobile phone in its box. “Besides, it's a necessity in the modern world. You'll need one so the pack can get hold of you if we need you. Or if you need us. Communication means we know you're safe. It means _I_ know you're safe. So please, for me, just let me buy this for you.”

“It’s a lot of money to be spending, Scott. A mobile phone, charger, and a phone case, not to mention all the clothes and utilities. I can’t let you buy everything for me, Scott! That’s hundreds of dollars! And I have no way to pay you back.”

“I already said that you’re not paying me back. Not for any of it. And Derek gave me most of the money anyway. And Theo. We all want to do this for you. So let us. You’ve been gone for a decade, you can’t blame them for wanting to spoil you now that they know you’re alive.”

“It just doesn’t seem fair that all of you are spending your own hard-earned money on me. You went out and earned it, you should be spending it on yourselves.”

“No, that's enough. You need things. We have the ability to get those things for you. We care about you. Done and done. Stop arguing and let me spoil my boyfriend.” Scott crossed his arms and pouted. “Please. Don't make me use my ‘angry Alpha eyes’.” He begged, using pouty puppy dog eyes, and Timmy groaned as he gave in. He was willing to bet what little money he had that nobody had ever been able to resist those eyes.

“Okay, fine. But I'm paying for the coffee.”

“Deal. Now pick out a phone case you like.” Timmy rolled his eyes, but couldn't make himself stay annoyed at Scott, letting Scott put a hand on the small of his back (feeling both extremely hot and flustered, and at the same time weirdly grounded at the contact) and guide him over to the shelf holding all the phone cases.

**Scott's POV**

Timmy's eyes kept drifting to one phone case in particular, though Scott could tell that he was trying his hardest to not show it. On the back it had an adorable cartoon dog with a sparkly gay pride flag in its mouth. Scott rolled his eyes internally while Timmy was pretending to look at a boring black flip case.

“Hey,” Scott said casually, plucking the 'dog-with-the-gay-pride-flag' case off the shelf and showing it to Timmy. “What about this one? Just look at how cute the puppy is!”

“I reckon you'd look something like that fully-shifted.” Timmy said, smiling at it. “But I can't get that one.”

“Why not? It's not even the most expensive one on the shelf.”

“But,” Timmy leaned in and whispered to Scott in a low hiss. “The flag. It's not safe flashing something like that all over town. That's how people get attacked.”

“Timmy, not all people think like your dad did. Most people nowadays don't really care who you're fucking as long as they're not a corpse or a neo-Nazi. Honestly, it's a bit like being a werewolf. You get some assholes with prejudices, but most people are chill.”  
Timmy still remained silent, not able or willing to meet Scott's gaze. Scott decided that it was time for drastic measures. He shifted and started running around the store, screaming at the other customers.

“I’M A BIG BAD BISEXUAL WEREWOLF, FEAR ME! AROOOOOOOOO!” He howled like a wolf out of a movie, and then pointed straight at Timmy with a clawed finger. “AND THIS TALL GLASS OF GORGEOUS IS MY GAY BOYFRIEND! WE ARE IN A HOMOSEXUAL RELATIONSHIP! AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH! THE IMAGINARY GAY AGENDA IS WINNING! MIKE PENCE MUST BE WARNED!! ELTON JOHN! LADY GAGA! YAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSS QWEEEEEEEEEN! VIVA THE HOMOS!!” He shifted back to human as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened, turned to face the stupefied store clerk behind the till, and put the phone, charger, and case on the counter with a dashing smile.

“Hi. Would I be able to buy these, please?”

Two minutes later and Scott was leading Timmy out of the shop, the latter's face as red as if he'd dipped it in a bucket of crimson paint. When, five minutes after that, Timmy still hadn't said anything and was still beetroot red, Scott started worrying that he’d seriously embarrassed Timmy.

“Are you mad at me for what I did in the shop?” Scott asked, pulling Timmy round to face him. A beat went by, and Timmy still hadn’t said anything, but then he suddenly burst into laughter, hanging onto a very bewildered Scott for support as great heaves of mirth racked his body. It was bordering on hysteria. It took Timmy a while to calm down, but eventually he giggled himself into silence and raised a hand to gently stroke Scott’s cheek, and Scott wasn't even embarrassed that he leaned into the touch, craving more.

“Oh, Scotty, baby, did you think I was mad at you this whole time? I'm sorry, baby, I wasn’t mad at you at all.” Timmy said, still caressing Scott's cheek.

“You weren't mad?” Scott said hopefully.

“Oh, my darling, no. It was the funniest thing I've ever seen in my life! And you thought I was quiet because I was ang– no, I was just trying so hard not to laugh, Scott!” Timmy smiled broadly. “And hey, you're really cute when you're shifted.”

And if Scott spent half the rest of the afternoon in his shifted form... Well, that was nobody's business but his.

*****

Scott and Timmy thoroughly enjoyed the rest of their shopping trip. They bought everything that Timmy could possibly need (and some things just because Scott saw that Timmy liked them): clothes, toiletries, some books from a second-hand bookstore, a couple of scented candles, a lava lamp, an armchair at a used furniture store (which would be delivered within three business days), bedsheets, a couple of extra soft pillows, cushions, and a fluffy blanket.

Scott vehemently refused to let Timmy carry anything, and insisted that it wasn't actually that heavy, but that it just seemed like a lot because of things like the bedsheets and the pillows (which, in Scott's defence, was true). It genuinely was perfectly manageable for him, and he didn't want Timmy to over-exert himself at all, because after all, he was still somewhat frail, and that wouldn't just disappear overnight. Timmy huffed, but finally gave in, grumbling that they should grab a cup of coffee, as it wasn’t quite time for lunch yet. They sat down at a table with their orders.

“Hey Scott, can I borrow your phone for a second? I just need to call someone. Would that be okay?”

“Yeah sure.” Said Scott, digging in his pocket and handing it over, unlocking it for him.

“Thanks. I'll be back in just a second.” And he walked out of the shop, sanding just a few feet away from the entrance.

Scott didn't know who he was talking to, but Timmy seemed to be very attentive to the conversation. Scott made himself block out the conversation, as it really wasn't his business who Timmy was talking to or what he was talking about. Scott wanted to be a good boyfriend, and with that came the importance of trust and respect for privacy.

Timmy made his way back into the coffee shop a couple of minutes later, handing Scott his phone back with a smile.

“Thanks.” He said, giving Scott a kiss on the cheek before taking his seat.

They sat in peaceful silence for a minute, before a thought came to Scott.

“Can you only do your full-shift or can you do a half-shift too, like me?” Scott said, more abruptly than he meant to.

Timmy didn't give a verbal answer, but he set his coffee cup gently on the table and shifted smoothly.

Scott kept having to re-evaluate his concept of beauty every time he looked at Timmy, and this was one such time. His half-shifted form was completely bewitching to Scott. The face was more pointed than a half-shifted werewolf, his eyebrows had gone (Scott wondered briefly if that was some sort of weird genetic pattern that the Hales had). His right eye was obviously still blind and milky-white, but his left eye was a dazzling orange. The claws too, were subtly different than a werewolf's: they were a bit longer, darker in colour, and slightly more curved. Timmy smiled, revealing his fangs; there were two sets of them instead of one.

Scott hadn't even realised that he had reached forward until he felt the softness of Timmy's skin beneath his fingertips. He traced his fingers lightly over the engorged forehead of Timmy's half-shifted face, over the soft sideburns, over his nose (which twitched when Scott touched it, and it was adorable), over the sharp edges of his fangs, and the plump fullness of his lips.

Scott's eyes bled red as he half-shifted on impulse and rested his forehead against Timmy's. Scott felt so axiomatically complete in this moment, so inexplicably happy.

And then, one word threw itself to the front of his mind with the force of a bullet.

 _‘Mate'_.

It felt as though Scott had been struck by lightning; he felt energised, but raw and exposed at the same time. He and Timmy jerked apart, looking at each other with wide eyes, and Scott knew that the exact same thing had just happened to him.

“Did you just fee—”

“Yeah. Yo—”

“Yeah.” They spoke at the same, and then sat staring at each other in shock. They finished their coffee as quick as they could, Scott left a sizeable tip, and they fled the mall, and practically ran back to Stiles's jeep. It had started raining heavily. Both Timmy and Scott got soaked as they sprinted to the jeep, which was waiting for the in the parking lot.

Scott threw the shopping rather unceremoniously in the back of the car and hopped in the driver's seat, while Timmy got himself situated in the passenger seat and pushing his sopping wet hair into a ponytail. For a while, they just sat there in deafening silence.

“So...” Scott tried awkwardly to start up the conversation. “We’re mates, huh?”

Timmy snorted in laughter.

“Yeah, I guess we are.”

“So what now?”

“You're the Alpha, you should be the one giving the answers.” Timmy said with a shaky laugh.

“Should we tell anyone?”

“I don't know. I mean, our relationship itself is still like super new, and now there's this bombshell: ‘BOOM! You're soulmates! You're basically supernatural husbands now!’, y'know?”

“So, maybe we shouldn't tell anyone for now, not because we don't want to, but so we can get some security and normalcy in the relationship first?”

“Yeah. That's what I was thinking. What do you think?”

“Totally agree.” Scott said, completely relieved that they were on the same page.

“But don't you want to tell Stiles?” Timmy asked, looking at Scott.

“Of course I do, he's my best friend.”

“Then you should tell him.” Timmy shrugged.

“So we just tell Stiles?”

“A-and maybe Theo, too?” Timmy asked hopefully.

“And Theo too.” Scott confirmed. “So we don't tell anyone other than our two best friends.”

“Exactly. And who knows, maybe they can help us get some more information and perspective on this whole 'mates' thing?”

“Sounds good to me.” Scott said, starting up the engine.

“But we agree that—”

“DEREK AND PETER CAN'T KNOW.” They said at the exact same time.

“Good.” Said Scott, pulling out of the parking lot. “Because while your brother was supportive of our relationship _before_ it became this whole 'supernatural destiny thing', _this_ happening this fast, he'll skin me alive. And Peter—" Scott shuddered at the very thought. “They’d never even find my body.”

*****

Both Timmy and Scott were pretty quiet the rest of the way home, both of them stewing in their own thoughts, though Scott for one, couldn't stop himself from smiling whenever he thought about Timmy (which, given that they were in each other's company all day, was pretty much constantly). He just wanted to kiss Timmy so much, and then ravish him until he was gasping his breath, and then cuddle him close and protect him with his ‘Alpha-wolfiness’ (Stiles's words, not his), and watch Disney movies, and cover Timmy with his scent so he didn't smell like anyone other than Scott, and then not let anyone else near him. It was all very confusing, and it left Scott kind of punch-drunk and in a daze.

Scott had the vague feeling that Timmy had taken Scott with him to the supermarket, and he may or may not have growled at a passing forty-something year-old woman because she was staring at Timmy's scarred face... and at a kid from the high school, because she was DEFINITELY eyeing up Timmy's ass.

Timmy eventually got Scott to leave and wait in the truck while he finished getting the groceries and paying for them with money that Scott had shoved in his hand before stalking out. Scott watched and listened out the window the entire time, though.

He could hear Timmy muttering apologies to anyone who would listen, and other people grumbling about 'freaks' and 'this town and its goddamned werewolf crap', before Timmy walked out the store, struggling under heavy bags of groceries. Scott was just getting out the car to give him a hand, when Timmy walked into a lamppost at full-speed. He hadn't been able to see it because of the blindness in his right eye. Scott could smell blood as Timmy crumpled onto the tarmac.

Scott howled and ran out the car, barely keeping from tearing the car door off of its hinges. Timmy was sat on the ground, cupping his bloody nose. Luckily, when Timmy let Scott have a look at it, it didn’t look as though it was broken. There was also a bloody gash on his forehead where he'd hit the pavement. Damn. Scott would need to sit him down and get the gravel out when they got home.

Scott could feel his control slipping already, and he tried to force himself to keep it together. Timmy was hurt, and he needed to keep his shit together.

“Scott, baby. I need you to breathe with me. Nice and slow, that's it. Now, it's just a couple of cuts and there'll probably be a big-ass bruise but I'm fine, okay? I’m not even dizzy, I promise. So I need you to pick up the groceries and put them in the jeep.” It felt like Timmy was talking to Scott from far away, it was all echoey. Scott followed Timmy's instructions on auto-pilot, not really paying much attention to what he was doing, wondering instead how Timmy was the one that was hurt and how _he_ was the one telling _Scott_ that everything was alright and to calm down.

Timmy got into the driver's seat, staunching the flow of blood with a sealed pack of Kleenex he found in the glovebox.

“I think I should drive.” Scott said, walking around to the driver's side door and opening it, but Timmy refused to budge.

“Absolutely the fuck not. You've been spaced out like you smoked a massive joint of weed ever since we got here. I don't want you driving like that. Now get in the passenger seat so we can get home. We still need to have some lunch.” Timmy glared at Scott, and when Scott still didn't move, Timmy flashed his orange eye and fangs at him, daring him to argue.

Scott decided it was probably best to just let it go.

Timmy drove them home in complete silence, although Scott noticed his hands (which were gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were turning white) had all the claws showing, and Scott could see the fangs poking out ever so slightly from his lips.  
Scott reached over a hand and started leeching the pain from Timmy. Timmy jerked his hand away quickly.

“Relax, Timmy, I'm just taking the pain from the nosebleed and the head wound.” Timmy hesitantly placed his hand back where it had been, and Scott could see him relax in the driving seat, so Scott counted it as a win.

They got back home and put away the groceries, before Timmy spoke up in a timid voice.

“I'm sorry.”

“What for?” Scott said, confused.

“For snapping at you in the car, and flinching when you touched my hand, and for spilling all the groceries, and for getting angry at all because you've just been amazing all day, and it wasn't fair.” Timmy said all of this very fast, not stopping for breath until he’s finished.

“Hey. It's fine, babe. So you got a bit annoyed; you hit your head and hurt yourself; it's frustrating, and I can see why you didn't want to make a big thing of it. You always used to have to look after yourself, so you like to be able to deal with things in a certain way. I understand. But hey, thanks for the apology. And I'm sorry that I got so spacey and weird; I don't even know what that was about.” Scott walked over and picked Timmy up, twirling him around a bit before setting him on the counter so he could clean up the drying blood on Timmy's face.

Scott sterilised a pair of forceps before picking the bits of gravel out of the cut on Timmy's forehead as gently as he possibly could. He then used an alcohol wipe on the cut and let it dry. It would be fine without a dressing because it wasn't too deep. He then gently wiped the dried blood off Timmy’s nose, which had luckily just about stopped bleeding.

He felt Timmy's fingers threading through his.

“Thanks.” Timmy said leaning forward on Scott.

“No worries.” Scott smiled. “Now what's for lunch? I'm starving.”

“It’s a surprise. Now go and entertain yourself for a bit. I'll call you when it's ready.”

With that, Scott was ejected unceremoniously from the kitchen. He sighed and smiled to himself, once again thinking of Timmy, and how Scott had majorly got lucky having him not only as a boyfriend, but also as a mate. It made the wolf inside him feel so calm and complete, but at the same time, fiercely overprotective.

Scott decided he'd go upstairs and make something of his messy-as-all-hell bedroom. He figured that if he had a boyfriend, he'd want Timmy to sleep over in his bedroom some nights, and Scott didn't want Timmy to trip on something and hurt himself, especially with his impaired vision. Also, he just wanted to make it look nice for Timmy. Seeing Timmy smile, and that he'd be happy that Scott had thought to do that for him... It made Scott feel determined, and he set about with enthusiasm picking things off the floor, putting stuff he needed to in the laundry hamper, putting things away in their proper place, making his bed. Seriously, by the time he had finished, it looked so neat, even his mum, who (in Scott's opinion) had very high standards of what was clean and what was 'just hidden out of the immediate walking path and probably shoved in the wardrobe', would've been impressed. It was, like, GENUINELY pristine tidiness.  
He still had a bit of time, so he quickly set up Timmy’s mobile phone for him, clipping the case on. He took the liberty of adding his number into the contacts, as well as the mobile numbers of the other pack members, the landline number for the Hale House, and (just in case) the mobile numbers for his mum, the Sheriff, and Argent.

He heard Timmy calling his name from downstairs, and tripped over his own feet on the way to the door. That was just bloody typical; he'd tidied up the _actual_ dangerous trip hazards, only to trip over his own fucking feet!

He grumbled to himself as he got downstairs, but stopped dead when he got to the kitchen.

Timmy had put a vase of flowers on the kitchen island (Scott didn't even know that they owned a vase), and had made a large pitcher of home-made peach iced tea. He had meticulously set out two sets of cutlery (and they were all part of the same set, not hodge-podge mixed together like they usually were), with plates and large wineglasses to pour the iced tea into. There was a big bowl of fresh and colourful salad, a selection of fruits, and a huge platter of quesadillas (one of Scott's favourites). Scott just stared. It looked amazing, all of it. Timmy fidgeted awkwardly by the stove.

“I hope this is alright. Um, when I borrowed your phone earlier, I called your mum and asked her what your favourite meals were when you were growing up. You did so much for me, today and yesterday, and I just wanted to say thank you, and – never mind, it's stupid.”  
Scott just raised an eyebrow.

“Ugh, fine! I really like you a lot, and I wanted our first date to be special. There, you happy? I'm as nauseatingly sappy as you are!”

Scott grinned and walked slowly over to him, snaking his arms around Timmy's waist and pulling him in for a quick kiss.

“It looks amazing. All of this, it's awesome. Thank you.” Scott said earnestly. Timmy blushed, but hugged Scott all the same.

“Come on. Or the quesadillas will get cold.”

*****

Scott and Timmy had a very enjoyable afternoon, eating the amazing lunch that Timmy had made and watching all three Toy Story movies in quick succession. Afterwards, about a solid half an hour had to be spent on comforting Timmy, who had been bawling uncontrollably by the end of Toy Story 3 ( _'The toys were holding hands in a furnace, Scott!!'_ ). The rest of the pack had returned from work and/or school partway through Toy Story 2 and had watched the rest of the trilogy with them.

After all the movies were finished (and Timothy had been comforted), Derek and Scott got the pack organised to all go out for bowling and dinner at the local diner. Scott and Timmy would be staying behind for some peace and quiet. But before the pack left, Scott and Timmy managed to get Stiles and Theo on their own. The others had left already, but Stiles had wanted to ride on the back of Theo's motorcycle.

“What’s up, guys?” Theo asked casually, putting his jacket on the back of a chair.

“Uuuummmmm...” Said Timmy awkwardly, not knowing where the hell to start.

“Okay... So, uh, you know how you and Derek love each other a lot, Stiles, and Theo, you and Liam love each other very much...”

“Just tell us whatever it is you don't want us to tell the others, or they'll start asking us what was taking so long and get suspicious.” Theo said bluntly.

“Are you and Derek mates? Or you and Liam?” Scott asked them.

“Yes.” Came Theo’s prompt reply.

“You get your Alpha wolfiness we are.” Said Stiles. It took them a beat to figure out why on Earth Scott would possibly ask that question, but then two pairs of eyes went as wide as dinner plates as they gaped at Timmy and Scott.

“Whoa, you two, are yo—”

“HOLY FUCKING MOTHER-LOVING SHITBALLS!!! YOU GUYS HAVE KNOWN EACH OTHER FOR ALL OF TWO DAYS AND YOU'RE ALREADY SUPERNATURAL SOULMATES?!?!?!?!?!” Surprisingly enough, Stiles's response was the calmer of the two, while Theo on the other hand, leaped up and started jumping up and down on the sofa with very wild and extravagant hand gestures. He then dived off the sofa right towards Scott.

For a moment, Scott thought Theo was about to attack him, and Timmy obviously thought so too, because he stepped in front of Scott as though to block him from the attack, but he needn't have worried. Theo swept both of them up into a fierce bear hug, laughing joyously and telling them emphatically and repeatedly how thrilled he was for them. Stiles also joined in, and they were all laughing and smiling.

When they all pulled apart, Timmy spoke.

“Wait, so you guys aren't mad or worried that this is happening too soon?” He sounded pretty unsure.

“What? Of course we're not mad, dummy! We love you both. And yes, it is pretty soon and it's all very fast, but you can't control these things. This is literally the universe telling you ‘holy hell, these two make a fucking cute couple’.” Theo crushed Timmy into another hug, pressing a friendly kiss to the top of his head. He smiled over at Scott, and jerked his head gently to the right, indicating that he wanted to talk to Scott in private. When they were alone, Theo gently closed the door behind him before speaking.

“Look Scott, I am so happy for you and Timmy. Seriously, this is hugely happy news, but—”

“Hurt him and you'll kill me?” Scott guessed, rolling his eyes fondly at him. When Theo shook his head sombrely though, Scott sobered up at once.

“Aw crap, this is so not a nice conversation, but when Tim was with the Dread Doctors, they did awful experiments on him, worse than on any of the other chimeras. And – just trust me when I say that your relationship with him is going to be absolutely pathologically terrifying for him, even if it is the best thing that's ever happened to him.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, think about it from his perspective, Scott. Nearly every single person of authority that he has had in his life has been psychopathic, sociopathic, abusive, murderous, torturous, evil, or potentially all of the above. That's not something you ever get over. Take it from me, it affects you for the rest of your goddamned life. Put it this way, I knew him when he was with the Dread Doctors, and he didn't even tell the pack _half_ of the evil things they did to him. There was one time in particular - it's not my place to say, he can tell you when he wants, but something like that... I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy, and it happened to one of my favourite people on this planet. It was... _Harrowing_. Completely and utterly traumatic. It...It was... the most despicable, _evil_ thing that _anyone_ ever did or _could_ ever do to him.” A couple of tears slipped down Theo's cheek, and he wiped them away in frustration. Even after all this time, Theo still got very squirmy about showing vulnerability.

“What did they do to him?” Scott asked, his voice shaking. If it was bad enough to affect Theo in this way, it was the sort of thing that happened in fucking horror stories.

“I can't. He needs to tell you himself. When he is ready. Please, don't push this, Scott.” Theo shook his head sadly. Scott nodded reluctantly, before he and Theo shared a quick hug and they re-joined the other two.

“Where’d you guys get to?” Said Stiles, smiling.

“Just chatting.” Theo said smoothly. “Anyway, we should probably get going, Stiles. We can tell the others that I had to stop and refill the tank on the bike.”

Theo gave Timmy one last hug, nodded at Scott, and he and Stiles left Scott and Timmy alone.

“So.” Scott said awkwardly. “You want to watch another movie? And I can walk you through your new mobile and teach you how to work it and stuff if you want?”

“Sure.” Timmy said brightly. “I saw a DVD on the rack by the TV. I think it was called something like 'Pirates of the Mediterranean’ or something.”

“Pirates of the Caribbean.” Scott corrected gently.

“Right. Do you want to watch that?”

“Sure.” Scott said, fetching the first movie in the series and putting it on.

Scott couldn't stop himself from grinning like a lovesick idiot when Timmy immediately curled up next to him, leaning into Scott and resting his head on Scott's shoulder. Scott began slowly showing Timmy some of the features on his new phone, making sure that he knew exactly where he could find all the mobile numbers if he needed to contact anyone.

By the time the movie was halfway through, though, Timmy was sat up straight, staring transfixed at the television and munching his way through a massive bowl of sweet and salted popcorn.

Scott was just about to put the second movie into the player, but Timmy stopped him.

“Why don't we wait a bit? I need to start cooking dinner.”

“Okay. What are we having?” Scott smiled.

“You’ll have to wait and see, won't you?” Timmy smiled back, giving Scott a quick peck on the lips before getting up and skipping to the kitchen and getting ingredients out.

Scott decided that he could probably catch up on some reading for his online college course while he waited. He made a load of notes and diagrams, meticulously labelling them and colour-coding everything. He was absolutely determined to ace this course.

“Hey Scott! Can you reach that pan for me, please?” Timmy called from the kitchen. Scott put down his pen and walked over. Timmy was standing on his tip-toes, leaning on the counter and trying to reach a large cooking pot from the top shelf. Scott walked up behind him and easily reached up to snag the pot down for him.

“Show off.” Timmy grumbled.

Scott grinned and leaned down for a kiss. Thankfully, Timmy didn't refuse him, leaning into the kiss and smiling in between kisses.

“Right, get out of my kitchen so I can finish cooking.” Timmy shooed Scott away.

Scott continued to make detailed notes while delicious smells drifted from the kitchen, but Scott dutifully remained where he was. Surprising Scott with this food seemed like it was important to Timmy, so Scott left him to it and tried to focus on what he was doing.  
About an hour later, Timmy started bringing through various plates and bowls full of food: ropa vieja with white rice, black beans, and sweet plantains. Empanadas, tamales, all of Scott's favourites. And by the smell of everything, Timmy had got all of the recipes off of Scott's mother. These were all the dishes that Scott had grown up with, that his mother had cooked to cheer Scott up whenever he'd skinned his knee, or been bullied at school, or come home crying for one reason or another.

It kind of brought a bit of a lump to Scott's throat to think that Timmy had put so much thought into this, to make this something that Scott would enjoy.

“I hope it's all okay. I texted your mum and got the recipes. I know it's not going to be exactly the same but I figured—”

“Timothy, this is amazing. You made all my favourite childhood meals just to make me happy. This is – _really_ special. Thank you. It means a lot to me.”

“I’m so glad you like it.”

“I love it, it's perfect. You're perfect.”

Timmy blushed and handed Scott a plate so he could serve himself up some food.

They did the dishes after they are and put the leftovers in the fridge, before grabbing pillows and blankets and snuggling into the sofa, cocooned like blanketed sushi rolls.

They eventually drifted of to sleep right there on the sofa, wrapped up in warm, comfy blankets and each other's arms.

*****

**Stiles's POV**

Bowling had been awesome. Stiles had, of course, been absolutely useless, but he enjoyed watching the others get increasingly more competitive as the evening went on. His team won because Stiles distracted Derek with a very lewd comment about how well he was handling the bowling ball and how he'd be handling another set of balls later that night.

The words had caused Derek to completely miss the shot, accidentally throwing the ball two lanes to the left of theirs. Derek furrowed his eyebrows into a grumpy pout until Stiles promised to give Derek half of his curly fries (and that was a big ask, because Stiles fricking loved curly fries).

When they got back to the pack house, they found the television on with a blue standby screen and the lamps still on.

Stiles put his keys in the bowl by the front door and walked over to the sofa, where he saw Scott lying on his back with Timothy on top of him, using Scott's chest as a pillow. Both of them were sound asleep, and Scott had his arms wrapped protectively around Timothy, hugging him to his chest with one hand and cradling his head into his neck with the other.

Stiles ever so gently pulled the hair tie out of Timothy's hair so he wouldn't wake up with a headache, and his long hair fell all over his face.

Lydia walked in front of them and silently snapped a couple of Polaroids of the two of them, leaving them on the table so the two would see them when they woke up.

Nobody wanted to move Timmy and Scott, so they just pulled one of the blankets further over them and let them sleep, before going up to bed themselves.

Timothy and Scott hadn't even stirred in their sleep, both of them, for the first time in what felt like forever, enjoying a good night's sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timothy Hale goes back-to-school shopping, Cora arrives in Beacon Hills, and there's a surprise announcement!

**Scott’s POV**

Scott blinked awake and shook the sleep out of his eyes as he looked around. He was still on the living room couch and, looking down at his chest, Scott could see Timmy snoring softly with his head on Scott's chest. Scott smiled as a wave of warmth and affection passed over him. Scott went to unwrap his arms from around him, but the young Hale grumbled in his sleep, furrowing his brows in protest until Scott put his arms back where they had been.

Scott heard a snort of laughter from the kitchen, and Parrish walked into his line of sight.

“Parrish.” Scott nodded at him in greeting.

“Scott.” Parrish reciprocated. “You guys might want to get up sooner rather than later; Derek and Peter went out to talk to Lydia's mom about signing Timothy up at Beacon Hills High, so they'll probably want to talk to him about that when they get back. Peter's now his legal guardian as well. Also, the others are all waking up as well, so you need to get up and grab something to eat before they eat everything within a five mile radius.” Parrish finished with a wry smile.

“Good call. Thanks, Jordan. You on shift at the station today?”

“For once, no. Rare day off, as it happens. I'm going to take Lydia for a picnic up in the mountains.”

“Good for you, dude.” Scott smiled, finally dislodging himself from Timmy's clutches, who grumbled and rolled over in his sleep.

“Don’t forget that Cora’s plane gets in at two, so the kid might want to be ready for that. Someone needs to make sure that a bedroom gets set up for her; I don’t think she’d take too kindly to having to sleep on a couch until after the wedding.”

“Good thinking. That hadn’t even occurred to me.” Scott said, rubbing his eyes and pouring himself a mug of much-needed coffee.

“So... how are things with you and the Hale kid going? D’you have a fun evening?” Jordan raised his eyebrow and leaned back against the kitchen counter with a knowing smirk.

“It’s not like that, dude.” Scott mumbled. “I mean, I hope it _will_ be, but – last night... nothing happened. That’s... what I’m trying to say.”  
Parrish cracked up in laughter.

“I’m just messing with you, dude. Chill.”

“Who’s messing with whom?” Came a voice. The others were traipsing down the stairs and into the room.

“No-one, honey.” Parrish kissed Lydia’s hair. “Scott and I were just chatting about what he got up to yesterday whilst we were all out bowling.”

“So... How’d it go, wolfie?” Stiles said jokingly, resting his elbows on the kitchen island and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at Scott. “We got back and you two were all lovey-dovey passed out on the couch.”

“Yeah, it was really fun, actually.” Scott smiled goofily to himself, the others all shooting him knowing smiles. “We watched movies, ate good food – oh my god, you’ll never believe it, guys; he actually called my mom and went through all the effort of making all of my favourite foods growing up!” Scott said emphatically, gesturing with his enthusiasm.

“Wow. That’s... actually really romantic.” Liam said in surprise, glancing over to where Timmy was still sleeping on the sofa.

“Hang on, are we talking about just the empanadas, or the full shebang?” Stiles cut in.

“We’re talking empanadas, tamales, _even_ ropa vieja.” Scott said seriously.

“Damn, this kid made your mom's ropa vieja? Keep him, he is good.” Stiles said, nodding seriously. “Is ther—”

“There’s some left over in the fridge.” Scott confirmed, smiling.

Stiles flew toward the fridge with the speed of an angry kanima, nearly wiping out Derek and Peter as they came through the front door.

“Woah, watch out, Stilinski.” Peter grumbled as he sidled into the kitchen area. “What are you eating, anyway? Smells good.”

“Damn right it smells good. This is ropa vieja. Melissa Stilinski's own recipe. Timmy made it for Scott yesterday.” Stiles said, grabbing a form and shoving massive amounts into his mouth straight from the tupperware.

“Jesus, Stiles. Slow down!” Derek gaped at Stiles as he continued to eat at an (almost) inhuman speed.

“What? I'm just really sodding hungry!” Stiles glared at his fiancé, before shoving another mouthful in.

“Whatever. But you eat so quickly, you can't possibly have time to chew properly. This sort of thing is probably what's been making you throw up so much lately.” Derek chided.

“Shut up. That happened two times at most.” Stiles said through a mouthful, scowling at Derek. “It was just a stomach bug, Derek. Stop making things bigger than they are.”

"I am not going to apologise for caring about my fiancé.” Derek said icily.

“If you'd use your supernatural wolf ears and fucking listen, you'd hear that I'm not telling you not to care, I'm just telling you to calm down and stop worrying about something that's not even a big deal.” Stiles snapped back.

“So, moving on.” Jordan cleared his throat awkwardly to attempt to clear some of the building tension in the room. “You manage to get everything sorted out for Tim?” Jordan changed the subject as he passed them with a large empty wicker picnic basket, which he promptly started packing.

“Yes.” Derek said, accepting the cup of chamomile tea that Stiles had passed him with an apologetic smile at him, which Stiles mirrored. “Principal Martin said that he could start on Monday if he wants to. Or if he needs more than a couple of days to settle in first, she said that he could start in one or even two weeks. We said that we'd check with Tim and let her know by the end of the day.”

“That’s good.” Liam nodded in approval. “Corey, Mason, and me can try and get him up to speed on coursework and stuff.”

“Thank you.” Peter nodded. “And I'm his legal guardian now, at least for appearance's sake.”

“Oh good God, help us all.” Theo exclaimed dramatically, smirking at Peter.

“Har har, now come on, Raeken, you're going to be late for work if you don’t get your ass moving.”

*****

“So, what do you think?” Derek asked Timmy.

Timmy took a sip of his tea before answering. Scott, Derek, and Peter were in the living room, and had sat Timmy down to discuss what he wanted to do about school.

“Tell her I'm starting on Monday.” Timmy said resolutely. Peter and Derek looked at the youngest Hale, unsure.

“Are you sure that's a good idea, pipsqueak?” Peter asked him. “That means you'd be starting in two days.”

“Yeah, I'm sure, Uncle Peter. I've been missing and on the run for the past ten years. As far as I'm concerned, the sooner I can get settled into a normal, mundane routine, the better. Call her.”

“Very well. If you're sure.” Peter said, still looking as though he was doing this against his better judgement.

While he stepped away to make the call to Ms Martin, Derek and Scott flopped down next to Timmy on the couch.

“So, Cora's plane gets in at two o'clock. Kira and Malia are setting up one of the spare bedrooms for her. Do you want to come and get her from the airport? It is a pretty long drive, because Beacon Hills doesn't have an airport itself. The nearest one is LAX in L.A.”

“I don't know.” Timmy said, frowning. “I mean, I love Cora, but it's not like we were ever very close. She and Laura didn't really, y'know, like me, for want of a better word. So I'm not sure I want to make a huge deal out of seeing her again; does that make me sound like a bad person?”

“No, I don't think it does.” Derek said reasonably. “Cora was always pretty unfriendly as a kid, but you haven't seen her since the fire. She's... well, she's not exactly _nicer_ , but she is less overtly mean. Bear in mind, Tim, we're all that's left of the Hales now. We've got to have each other's backs. But no, I don't think Cora will judge you for not meeting her at the airport if you don’t want to.” Derek shrugged.

“Okay.” Timothy nodded to himself. “I love her really, and I'm excited to see her and all, but I don't want to make this a huge 'thing'.”

“I guess I can understand that.” Scott said kindly. “Besides, if you're starting school in two days, we might need to buy you folders and notebooks, all that stuff. I need to go and meet Cora at the airport because I'm the Alpha, but I'm sure some of the others would be happy to go with you; it might give you a chance to get to know them better.”

“Sounds fun.” Timmy said, finishing his tea. “I’d still like to be back home by the time Cora gets here, though.”

**Liam's POV**

An hour later, and Timmy was sat in the back seat of Liam's shiny black SUV on the way to the mall with Liam, Mason, and Corey.

“So, where to first?” Mason asked in a bouncy voice as he hopped out of the car.

“Starbucks.” Corey answered, grabbing his boyfriend's hand and tugging him along. “I need my triple mocha frappucino, and I need it NOW.”

“Ugh, Corey's addicted to those things.” Liam muttered to Timmy as they followed after the others to Starbucks.

“I heard that!” Corey shouted over his shoulder. “And it's not like you’re any better than me with those iced tea fusion lemonade things you love.”

Corey continued pouting and muttering under his breath, only placated when they entered the Starbucks and Mason offered to buy Corey's drink for him.

“Holy fuck, this menu is endless!” Timmy gulped as he looked up at the extensive menu behind the counter.

“Yeah, there's a lot there, it can be a little bit overwhelming.” Mason said sympathetically. “Why don't you start off simple?”

In the end, Timmy ended up picking an ordinary Chai tea and adding the contents of a couple of sugar packets, before heading out into the cold winter air with the others.

“Right. I need to get a bunch of notebooks, folders, textbooks, not to mention pens and stationery and _all_ that crap.”

“Got it. There's a stationery shop just down here.” Corey said, leading the way.

Within two hours, Timmy had bought everything he'd need for school, including notebooks, folders, and a new schoolbag (because his old backpack was filthy and nasty and all three of them had insisted that Timmy needed to buy a replacement), but on the way back to the car, he darted in to a baby store and emerged a couple of minutes later with two baby onesies, matching sets of baby booties with little hats, a cuddly wolf toy, and a teddy bear.

“Who’re those for?” Liam asked, frowning in confusion as Timmy zipped his purchases safely inside his backpack.

“What do you mean?”

“The baby stuff. Who's it for?”

“You don't know?” Timmy looked at the three of them, genuinely surprised that they didn't know whatever it was that he knew.

“Know _what_?” Corey asked in exasperation.

Timmy sighed.

“If you guys don't know... I suppose they won't know either. Great, that probably means that I'll be breaking the news to the whole pack.” Tim muttered, seemingly more to himself.

“Tim. You've got to tell us! Which of the girls is pregnant?!” Mason shine in protest, but Tim just rolled his eyes and started walking back to Liam's car.

The whole way back to Pack HQ, Mason and Corey bombarded Tim with questions, demanding to know who was pregnant, and why he knew when nobody else did. Liam, too, was curious, but after ten minutes driving and Timmy still refusing to answer Mason and Corey, let's just say that Liam didn't see the point of joining in.

Tim hopped out the car when they got to the Pack House, and walked inside.

“Do you reckon he's right? Someone in the pack’s pregnant?” Mason asked Liam and Corey as they followed behind him.

“Who knows? I don't even know how he'd be able to tell.” Liam shrugged, closing the door behind them.

The four of them walked into the main living area and heard a yell.

**Timmy’s POV**

“Hello, Cora.” Timmy said, standing awkwardly in the living room as Cora leaped up from the sofa. Evidently, Scott and Derek had beat them back from picking Cora up from LAX. Probably not by much, though; there were suitcases in the hallway, Cora was still wearing her coat, and the whole pack (except for Lydia and Jordan, who were still on their picnic, and Theo, who was still at work) was scattered the large space, probably in the middle of greetings.

“Holy fuck. You're alive.” Cora walked forward cautiously.

“I am.” Timmy replied.

“You’ve only got one eye.”

“I know.”

“Your hair's longer.”

“From when I was seven?” Timmy snorted. “Yeah, it probably is.”

“You’ve grown.”

“That tends to happen over a decade.” Timmy said brusquely.

“Will you stop?” Cora grumbled irritably. “This isn’t easy for me. I haven't seen you in ten years, we all thought you were dead. This is kind of a lot to take in, you know.”

“I’m sorry.” Timmy mumbled, not looking at his sister.

Cora rolled her eyes and gruffly pulled him into a fierce hug.

“I missed you, shorty. I know we weren't ever that close, but you’re still my baby brother.”

“Missed you too, Cora.” Timmy whispered into his sister's shoulder, his words muffled by her hair. They pulled out of their hug to see Derek beaming at them encouragingly.

“Great, introductions made. Siblings reunited. Now will you tell us who's pregnant already?!” Mason blurted out excitedly, before gasping and clamping his hands over his mouth.

*****

This outburst was met with a cacophony of noise, a veritable maelstrom of confusion and questions.

A piercing whistle cut through the din, and everybody quietened down and turned to Malia, who stopped her whistle, and nodded to Tim.

“Explain.” Malia demanded bluntly.

“Honestly, I'm surprised. A whole frickin' house packed full of supernaturals, and nobody uses their assets.” Timmy shook his head in disbelief.

“I think you might be wrong, Tim.” Kira suggested kindly. “I think any of us girls would notice if we were pregnant.”

Timmy was getting frustrated with them now.

“Right, how many of us are in this room right now?” Timmy said testily, scanning over the room and doing a quick head-count. “Thirteen? Yeah, thirteen. Okay, now why don't you try and see how many heartbeats you can hear in this room?” Timmy said, speaking to them as though they were all very small children who couldn't count to three, which, Timmy reasoned, was surprisingly accurate.

He watched as all the other supernaturals in the room focussed their hearing and count the heartbeats they could hear.

“There’s fifteen.” Scott spoke in a bewildered voice. The others were all nodding in agreement, their surprise clearly written on all their faces.

“Exactly. Now, trace those two extra heartbeats back to their source. Or use your noses and figure out who smells different.” Timmy said impatiently. “I’ll make it even simpler for you all. There’s only one pregnant person here; _somebody_ in this room is having twins.”

Timmy watched in amusement as, one by one, every pair of eyes turned to stare at... Stiles.

Stiles looked from shocked face to shocked face with an air of bemusement, clearly confused as to why on earth they were all staring at _him_.

“What are you all looking at?” Stiles chuckled nervously.

“It's you... You're pregnant.” Derek said faintly, looking like he was going to faint.

Scott and Liam darted forwards and helped Derek sit down on the couch before he actually _did_ collapse, where he sat frozen and gaping in shock at his fiancé.

“What?” Stiles burst out laughing. “Do I even have to remind any of you that _I'm a guy?!_ I have a dick and two balls, not a vagina and two ovaries and shit!”

Timmy groaned.

“Stiles. When is biological impossibility ever bloody relevant in the supernatural world?” Timmy said, looking unimpressed. “You can do magic, right? Can you do some sort of scan spell, or diagnostic spell or something?”

Stiles sobered up and looked at Timmy sceptically.

“Fine. I'll cast a stupid diagnosis spell, but when it doesn't show anything, _which it won't_ , let the record show that I told all of you that this was impossible and that I was right.”

Stiles placed his hands on his belly and muttered something under his breath. Golden light glowed under his hands and he frowned in concentration.

“Weird.” Stiles murmured as his frown deepened even further. The suddenly, he let out a gasp of surprise, his eyes flying open as he tripped over his own feet. Luckily, Liam caught him and sat him down next to Derek, who was still staring at his fiancé as though he'd grown a second head.

“Congratulations.” Timmy snorted in laughter and pulled the baby stuff out of his backpack, placing it all on the coffee table in front of Derek and Stiles. “You two are going to be fathers.”

The silence was completely deafening. Nobody knew what to say or how to react. Finally, Derek's croaking voice could be heard.

“But... How?” He whispered faintly, looking at his little brother.

Timmy sighed.

“It’s rare. Very rare, make that. Basically, our mom was a True Alpha, Der. And because of that magical phenomenon, the males in our bloodline are able to impregnate, and conversely be impregnated by, men. The general idea is that because True Alphas are so incredibly rare, nature stepped in, because babies born to a True Alpha's bloodline are more likely to be True Alpha’s themselves.”

“So I'm actually pregnant? I'm going to have a baby?” Stiles whispered, wide-eyed.

“Two. You're having twins.” Timmy reminded him gently.

“That’s it. Condoms from now on Der-bear.” Stiles said.

A wet bubble of laughter escaped Derek's mouth as he picked up the cuddly wolf toy from the coffee table.

“But wait a second. How do you know all this?” Scott shook his head in confusion.

“Uh, it's nothing? Well, it's not nothing, but can we not do this now? It's not something that I like talking about.” Timmy asked shakily. When all he received were raised eyebrows and unimpressed looks, Timmy relented. “Okay, fine. I'll tell you all, just give me a minute to sort myself out first.”

With that, Timmy practically sprinted out of the living room and up the stairs. He shut himself in his walk-in wardrobe and pulled out his mobile phone, scrolling through his contacts, and punching the 'call' button.

“You need to come home. NOW.” Timmy's voice shook as he spoke.

_“What’s wrong, Tim? Is the pack in trouble?”_

“No. But _I_ will be soon. Stiles is pregnant, and they're asking questions, and I'm going to have to tell them. I need you here with me. Please.” Tim whimpered down the phone.

_“Shit. Hang on, bud. I'm on my way. Just getting in my truck. Where are you?”_

“In my wardrobe.”

_“Okay, stay there. I'll be home soon, and I'll come and get you, so we can tell them together, okay?”_

“I’m scared.”

_“I know, buddy. I am too. But we knew we'd have to tell them eventually. I'm going to hang up now, but I'll be there soon. I promise.”_

“Okay, Theo.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All of Timothy Hale's secrets are laid out in the open. Scott wonders what it could be, and how on Earth Theo could possibly tie into it. When the secret that Timmy and Theo have been keeping is released, how will Liam and Scott react?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is a pretty long chapter, and there's a lot crammed into it.
> 
> I'm going to warn you guys now, there's a lot of dark shit in this chapter. Like, some DARK stuff. Trigger warnings for past rape, forced pregnancy, forced abortion, infanticide, murder, attempted suicide, and aftermath of traumatic events.
> 
> Seriously guys, there's a lot of stuff that could act as a trigger in this chapter, so stay safe, guys xxxx
> 
> T xx
> 
> P.S. This chapter contains my FIRST EVER attempt at writing smut. Rest assured that the smut scene is completely unrelated to the rape storyline, and is completely consensual. Hope you all enjoy it.

**Scott's POV**

Silence had settled over the entire pack, thick and choking like smoke, after Timothy had fled the living room.

Occasionally, someone would voice their curiosity about what it could possibly be that Timmy was going to tell them, to which there would be a couple of half-hearted suggestions without any real conviction behind them. Scott, however, remained utterly silent, trying to sort through the swirling mess of thoughts and runaway ideas that were charging through his head like a herd of wild horses.

What could Timmy tell them that he hadn’t already that could possibly be that bad?

Suddenly, they could hear tires screeching to an abrupt halt, and hurried footsteps crunching on the gravel driveway. The front door crashed open as Theo came sprinting straight past all of them without saying anything.

“Theo?! What are you doing?” Liam asked worriedly as his boyfriend ran past.

“Timmy called. Freaking out. Gotta go help him.” Theo called over his shoulder as he ran up the stairs.

Scott could hear Theo thumping on Timmy's bedroom door before barging in, but he couldn't hear anything beyond then.

It was over a quarter of an hour before Scott and the pack heard Theo coaxing Timmy downstairs. When they entered the living area, they could all see that Timmy's eyes were bloodshot and puffy, and there were still silent tears gushing down his face; when he looked up and saw the entire pack looking at him, his face lost what little colour it had, and he turned to run out of the room again. He was stopped by Theo, who placed a steadying hand on the youngest Hale's shoulder.

“Come on, bud. It's time now.”

Still looking as though he was walking towards his own death, Timmy futilely tried to wipe away some of the tears on his cheeks as he walked further into the room and positioned himself in front of everybody.

“Um...” Timmy's voice cracked and rasped as he started. “This i-is – this is going to be very unpleasant, and I really didn't want to have to tell anyone any of this. Ever, if I could help it. And I'm going to completely lose my nerve if I stop talking, so please just don't interrupt or anything, or I won't be able to get it all out without... Just, please listen? And just, try not to hate me.”

Everybody waited with baited breath for him to continue. He took a great shaking breath before he started again.

“I lied to you all. Or, I guess I didn't really lie, I just didn't tell you everything. Okay, so ummmm.... Right, you guys all know I'm a chimaera, half werewolf, half kitsune, and that I've got six tails. Well, most of what I told you guys was one hundred percent true, but I missed out the real reason I got my fourth tail.” At this point, Timmy paused and looked to Theo, seemingly for reassurance. Theo set his jaw and nodded once.

“Okay. So, I told you all that the Dread Doctors did a bunch of experiments on me, from just after the time I'd escaped from Kate Argent when I was around eleven, to when I escaped them when I was about fifteen. What I _didn't_ tell you was that the Dread Doctors knew that Theo and I, at the ages we were, weren't willing to commit the sort of atrocities they needed us to. In short, we were kids, and we didn't want to rise to those levels of evil. So the Dread Doctors knew that they either had to find someone else to be their puppets, or they had to break us emotionally. In the end, they found a solution that had the potential for both eventualities.  
They had done extensive research on werewolves, more than probably anyone in all of history, and they had spared no extraneous detail. And they had heard rumours about True Alphas and their bloodlines, and the magic that allowed men to become pregnant. So they decided that that was what should happen.”

Timmy fell silent for a little while, blinking away tears and shaking, but nobody dared to interrupt. Scott looked mutely at Theo and caught his eye. He raised his eyebrows, looked to Timmy, back to Theo, and then shrugged his shoulders. Theo nodded, confirming his suspicion that whatever Timmy was trying to tell them all, _that_ had been what Theo had tried to tell him about, the harrowing mystery.

“So, this would've been when I was about thirteen and Theo was around fifteen or sixteen, I think? Honestly, time is a little bit blurry, but the Dread Doctors started trying to encourage our friendship, and hint that it would be a good idea to... _evolve_ it into something mor—”

“I FUCKING KNEW IT!” Liam exploded in a furious shout, glaring curiously from Theo to Timmy and back again. “You fucking lied to me, Theo! You told me – you looked me straight in my eye and you _promised_ me that you two had never been together!”

Liam's eyes were glowing yellow, and before anyone could even try to diffuse the situation, Liam had half-shifted and was stalking towards Theo, pulling his hand back to viciously slap his boyfriend across the face with a clawed hand. But the blow never landed. Timmy had also half-shifted and had caught Liam's wrist before he could hit Theo. He was now standing resolutely and defiantly in between a furious Liam, and a confused and scared Theo. They snarled at each other, their eyes glowing dangerously. Liam growled angrily at Timmy and tried to shove him out of the way, but Timmy roared right into Liam’s face and tightened his grip around Liam's wrist.

“Think.” Timmy ordered through a mouthful of fangs. “Think about what you were just about to do, Liam. Control yourself, because no amount of anger is going to make it okay for you to hurt the man you love. Theo is a good guy, so back off _now_.”

Liam’s eyes slowly flickered back to his usual blue, and his claws retracted, before he growled again and wrenched his wrist out of Timothy's grip and backed away.

“Right. As I was _going_ to continue in to say, before you _all_ start jumping to conclusions,” Timmy continued, shooting a glare at Liam, “The Dread Doctors realised that Theo and I weren't going to have a physical relationship. Our friendship was so important to both of us, we were too loyal to each other. Not to mention, we became immediately suspicious and wary when the Dread Doctors started _encouraging_ us to do something. They were acting strange, so we kept our guards up.  
In the end, they decided that they had to force it to happen. They... they raped Theo to get his sperm. And then, they raped me in order to artificially inseminate me. We were both raped to make me pregnant. And it worked.” Timmy’s voice wobbled and broke as he finished.  
Everyone in the pack was staring, horror-struck, either at Timmy, who was shaking and sobbing in front of them all, or at Theo, who was standing just behind Timmy and staring down at his shoes with a scarily blank expression on his face.

“Theo...” Liam whispered barely audibly, with a horrified look on his face. “Theo, baby... Is this true?”

Theo sniffed and nodded, still not taking his eyes away from the floor.

“It's why... It's why we decided we needed to escape.” Theo croaked. “Timmy was pregnant now, and we just – we couldn't let the Dread Doctors use the baby like that. They wanted to raise the baby themselves, to be their evil chimaera warrior, to condition his mind, right from birth. We couldn't let that happen to our son. Our plan was to wait until one of them came alone to check on the baby's progress and take them out to buy us some time, but Timmy started getting sick. Like, really sick. The baby was taking all of the nutrients that Timmy needed to keep his body going, and the Dread Doctors didn't exactly keep us in the cleanest of environments. Eventually it got to the point where Timmy was going to die. So, the choice for the Dread Doctors was to either let one of their only successful chimaeras die on the off chance that they got their perfect weapon, or play it safe and save Timmy, which would mean killing – killing the baby... I guess it’s pretty obvious which one they chose.”

A lone tear fell from Theo's face, landing on the toe of his boot. Timmy pulled up the hem of his shirt to show them all an ugly deep scar on his abdomen, going from one skeletally thin hip to the other.

“This is where the cu – how they got the baby out. They didn't even clear it up, they just tossed our baby boy's little body on the floor and stitched me back up; it was like nothing to them. Our son was murdered before he’d even had a chance at life. That's how I got my fourth tail. Theo taught me how to full-shift because we thought it would be easier to get away from the Dread Doctors that way. We told them that we were going to bury our son's body, and after we did, we used the opportunity to try and run. But they caught up to us; the only reason that I got away was because Theo held them off.”

“I had to keep them from going after him, so I became their perfect monster. I did whatever I had to, the killing, the violence, because then they wouldn't need to bother going after him if they had what they wanted after all.” Theo said tonelessly.

“So yeah,” Timothy said, self-consciously wiping the years off his face. “That’s how I know about this sort of thing.”

Scott's mind was completely blank, he could not form a single coherent thought on what he should do, say, or how he should be reacting; it was like his entire mind was completely fogged up with static, like when a TV can’t get signal.

Timothy stood immobilised in his place. He opened his mouth, apparently couldn't come up with anything to say, and closed his mouth again, turning to go up the stairs.

He’d just put his foot on the bottom stair when Stiles managed to find his voice in the crushing silence.

“Did he have a name?”

“Yes.” Timothy whispered, turning his head to the side. “His name would have been Luca. Luca Derek Raeken.”

Scott stood up abruptly, causing all the eyes in the room, including Timmy's, to immediately swivel towards him.

“Scott?” Timmy whispered, taking his foot off the stairs and walking back into the room.

Scott said nothing. He couldn't see the point in trying to. He turned away and walked towards the front door.

“Scott? Scott?! Where are you going?! Scott, say something! SCOTT!” Scott felt Timmy's small hand grab his shoulder, but he shrugged it off and walked out the front door without a second glance.

He could hear Timmy's anguished cries, screaming desperately for him to come back, as he took off running down the path.

*****

**Derek's POV**

Timmy was inconsolable. The moment the door had slammed shut behind Scott, Derek's brother had crumpled to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

Lydia and Jordan had arrived back from their picnic pretty soon afterwards, and had walked through the door to see most of the pack standing there, silently crying, while Derek, Peter, and Stiles tried desperately to comfort Timmy.

Nothing had worked. In the end, Stiles had had to resort to casting a sleeping spell on him, so Derek could carry him upstairs and lay him on his bed. Theo had followed him and had decided to sit with Timmy while he slept.

When Derek had returned, the rest of the pack were busy filling Lydia and Jordan in on what had happened. He heard the word 'rape' come from someone’s mouth again, and it had hit Derek like a freight train. He’d barely made it outside before he vomited into the bushes; he could feel bile burning his throat as he retched and retched until there was nothing left in him.

He felt a hand on the small of his back, and could see Stiles through the years in his eyes.

“My baby brother... It's – that...”

“I know.” Stiles gulped down a wet sob. “I know, Der.”

“They did – they did _that_ to my baby brother.” Derek said in a distraught, agonised whisper. “They... They _raped_ him. Him _and_ one of my best friends. And their baby... He would've been my _nephew_ , Stiles. We would've been uncles.”

“To think that the Dread Doctors did that to a _baby_. When he hadn't even been born.” Stiles shook his head in disgust.

“And we can't even go after them and make them pay, because they're already dead.” Derek snarled bitterly.

“I know.” Stiles agreed darkly. But then he looked pensive. “What I can't work out, though, is why Scott ran off like that?”

“I don't know,” Derek muttered, growling, “but he is sure-as-shit explaining himself when he gets back. That was the last thing that Timmy needed right then.”

“Come on. Let's get back inside. Are you okay now?” Stiles held his hand for Derek to take.

Derek wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve.

“About as okay as I can be.” Derek sighed, walking back into the house. “I think I just need an early night. There's been so much today that I need to process, I mean even in the last couple of hours alone; everything that happened to my brother and to Theo, and the fact that you and me are going to be fucking parents.”

Derek get Stiles grip his arm and turn him round to face him.

“Yeah. How are you feeling about that?” Stiles said, looking warily into Derek’s eyes, as if trying to read his thoughts. “I mean, I know it came to light on the back of some pretty awful shit, but – we never really talked about having kids, and it kind of seems that maybe we should have now. But are you happy? That I'm pregnant?” Stiles scrunched his face up at the last word, clearly still overwhelmed at the mere thought.

Derek looked right back into Stiles's eyes, which were twinkling with mingled hope and apprehension. He slithered his arm around his fiancé's waist.

“Yeah. I really am.” And he kissed him chastely on the lips, trying to show Stiles in that moment, all the love he felt for him.

The next morning, Derek woke up and groaned as the painful events of last night came rushing back to him all at once.

“Hey, Der.” Stiles said, looking up from his book and giving him a sympathetic smile.

“I need to check on my brother.” Derek said immediately, sitting up and pulling on a t-shirt and a pair of socks (he’s slept in his pyjama bottoms).

“Yeah, let's go downstairs and have some breakfast. Then we can bring some upstairs for him.”

“Okay, that's a good idea.” Derek agreed, getting up and stretching, grinning at the way Stiles practically salivated as his t-shirt rode up, exposing some of his muscled abdomen, black hair travelling downwards from just below his belly-button and disappearing beneath his pyjama bottoms. Derek noticed the sheets tented slightly where Stiles was sitting. “But let me take care of that first.”

Derek grabbed the sheets and ripped them away, revealing Stiles's pale legs, dotted with moles. Stiles had slept in his favourite Batman t-shirt and a pair of Superman boxer briefs, which were not only perfectly and obscenely outlining his fiancé’s raging hard-on, but were also sporting a perfect little wet spot of pre-cum.

Stiles giggled as he threw aside his book, and set his glasses carefully on the bedside table.

“Then get the hell over here, Sourwolf.” Stiles said, lying back on their pillows. “You might as well have not bothered getting dressed.”

Derek’s eyes glowed blue in his state of arousal as he crawled predatorily onto the bed towards Stiles, laying his body next to his and claiming his mouth in a tender kiss, which quickly turned into a heated, passionate battle of tongues.

Stiles moaned out loud as Derek started nipping at his jawline and neck, placing light kisses on every mole he came across before he became encumbered by Stiles’s t-shirt, which he should definitely not still be wearing, Derek thought. Stiles seemed to have been having similar thoughts, because he pushed Derek gently off him and tried to gracefully slip his t-shirt over his head, getting stuck in the neckhole in the process of doing so.

Derek chuckled and removed his own shirt, before freeing Stiles from his Batman t-shirt. Stiles grinned at him and flipped them over so that he was straddling Derek, dressed only in his tight Superman boxer briefs. God he would never get tired of seeing the way Stiles's underwear stretched taught over the perfect, round, pale globes of his ass, Derek thought to himself.

Derek (with feverish speed) reached his hands past Stiles to undo the tie on his pyjama bottoms, pushing them down to his ankles and awkwardly bending his legs to completely remove them, but at the same time, trying not to unseat his very-nearly-naked fiancé. Stiles leaned forward, so that he was sitting on Derek's hips, but was lying over his torso. Derek felt Stiles run the pad of his thumb along this cheekbone, cupping his face sweetly, and Derek leaned into the touch, closing his eyes briefly, but peacefully.

He looked up into Stiles's eyes, which were twinkling and glittering with love and happiness.

“I love you, Sourwolf.” Stiles said, closing his eyes and placing a sweet kiss to Derek's lips.

“And I love you, Mieczyslaw Stilinski.” Derek replied, willing Stiles to hear how wholeheartedly he meant it. “With all I am, and all I ever will be.”

Stiles beamed at him from ear to ear.

“You learned to say my name?”

“Of course I did. I love you, and I'm going to marry you.” Derek said smiling up at Stiles. “Plus, it’s so difficult, I needed to practice before the wedding day.”

Stiles laughed as he bent down to kiss Derek again, accidentally (completely on purpose, Derek was absolutely sure) grinding his underwear-covered ass onto Derek's now free and throbbing dick. A groan escaped from low in Derek's throat.

“Should I get a condom?” Derek panted as Stiles kissed his neck.

“Why bother? It's not like I can get even more pregnant. We only need to use one if you fancy bottoming.” He grinned, flopping down onto the bed next to Derek to remove his underwear while Derek rooted around in the bedside drawer for lube.

“Damn, we're probably going to need to get some more soon.” Derek murmured, peering at the nearly empty tube.

“Honestly, I'm surprised I didn't end up pregnant sooner.” Stiles said wryly, rolling his eyes. “I might run a magic check on you later, just to be on the safe side and make sure you're not pregnant too.”

“Well,” Derek reasoned as he turned back to a now fully-naked Stiles, “when sex is as good as we have it, who can blame us?”

Derek took a moment to let his eyes roam over Stiles's exquisite body, taking in everything from the gorgeous moles that smattered Stiles's body like stars in a constellation, to his compactly muscular torso, that was still lean and lithe, to his dick; eight inches long to Derek's respectable six and a half inches long, though not as thick as Derek's, circumcised (Stiles was Jewish) where Derek's was uncircumcised (circumcision just wasn't really a thing in born-werewolf culture) and curved upwards slightly, so that it now lay flush against Stiles's stomach.

Inevitably though, Derek’s gaze was drawn to his eyes, which were perhaps the most beautiful part of him of all; a beautiful caramel brown, the colour of honeyed whiskey, or sunlight caressing varnished wood. Derek found himself lost and bewitched every time he gazed into them, it was like falling in love all over again; every single time.

Honestly, every time that Derek looked into the eyes of the love of his life, he could never find quite the right words to describe that feeling he got in his chest; like he was about to burst into tears, but at the same time, like he would never have a reason to cry again, like butterflies in his stomach, and he would sometimes just feel a spontaneous grin pulling at his face whenever he caught sight of Stiles, or when he saw something and it made him think of Stiles.

All of this ran through Derek’s head as he clicked the cap open on the lube bottle and slicked up his fingers. He trailed them lightly over Stiles’s inner thighs, making him squirm and wriggle in arousal, before he circled around Stiles's hole and gently pressed one of them past the rim. Derek gently pulled it almost out and back in again a few times, letting Stiles acclimatise before adding a second finger and scissoring them to help stretch Stiles open.

“It's okay, Derek. I'm ready now.” Stiles panted, grinding himself deeper onto Derek's fingers, moaning in bliss. Derek had learned long ago that denying Stiles something he wanted would never lead to happiness and improved well-being; quite the opposite, in fact.

“Are you sure, baby?” Derek crooned into Stiles's ear, running his tongue over the shell of his ear.

“Hnnng – yes, Der. God yes.” Stiles moaned loudly. Derek remained forever grateful for the one-way soundproofing in the bedrooms, that allowed the occupants to hear what was going on out in the hallway (in case there was an emergency), but gave everyone privacy within the confines of their own bedrooms.

“Your wish is my command.” Derek purred, nipping playfully at Stiles's earlobe, squirting some more lube onto his dick before slicking up Stiles’s asshole a little bit more to help things along. As Derek lined himself up to Stiles's hole and removed his fingers, Stiles grabbed Derek round the neck and pulled him in to a heated kiss, wrapping his legs around Derek's waist.

“I love you, Stiles.”

“I love you too, Derek.” Stiles said, smiling warmly up at Derek.

As Derek slid himself into the tight heat of his fiancé’s body, he rested his forehead into the junction between Stiles's neck and shoulder for support, as that surge of ecstasy pulled him in, as it did every time.

Derek's rhythm started off torturously slow and sensual, dragging out every ounce of pleasure until Stiles was a boneless, writhing, moaning mess beneath him. This has the added effect of robbing Derek of all capability of coherent thought, so that all he could think or feel was the connection and insurmountable pleasure that he and Stiles were sharing.

As always happened though, the wild animal inside Derek, the passionate and hungry wolf, burst to the surface. His eyes glowed blue, his fangs extended, and he fisted his hands into the pillows on either side of Stiles's head so his claws didn't cause injury as his pace and desperation for satisfaction increased, until the only thing that could be heard were Derek's grunting growls of passion, Stiles screaming out in inexorable bliss as Derek rammed into his prostate over and over and over again, and the sound of skin slapping against skin as Derek's heavy, swinging balls hit against Stiles's ass-cheeks every time he sheathed himself in Stiles's tight, clenching heat.

“Stiles... Gonna – AAAHH!” Derek roared and rammed himself home as his knot expanded inside Stiles, holding their bodies together as Derek's cum filled Stiles completely. Even with Derek's werewolf knot, there was so much cum that some overflowed and dribbled down Stiles's crack and onto their sheets.

When Derek's vision cleared, he looked down to see Stiles, the love of his life, his body shining with sweat, his cum splattering up his torso, with some even managing to get on his face and ears. Derek grinned in spite of himself as he leaned down and licked Stiles's face clean.

“That must have been quite some orgasm, huh?” Derek grinned, rolling them both over onto their sides, so they could be more comfortable while they waited for Derek's knot to deflate.

“It was fucking phenomenal, as you very well know.” Stiles gasped, trying to catch his breath.

Derek have Stiles a goofy shit-eating grin and wiggled his eyebrows at him.

“Oh shut up, you vain werewolf asshole! Stop looking so proud of yourself!” Stiles laughed, playfully slapping Derek's arm. “I don't remember you being so cocky, pun definitely intended, the first time we had sex and your knot expanded.”

That definitely sobered Derek up.

“It didn't deflate for three hours. We had to call Deaton to come and help us.”

“God, don't remind me.” Stiles shuddered. “Scott still laughs at me about that. Thank God it usually only takes half an hour to go down now.”

“Not that you're complaining.”

“Not that I'm complaining.” Stiles confirmed. “It just means I get more time alone with the man that I am desperately, hopelessly, in love with.”

After Derek's knot had gone down enough for Stiles and Derek to separate themselves, they headed to the bathroom for a shower together. Derek gave Stiles one of his world-class blowjobs (Stiles's words) and cleaned the cum out of Stiles's ass with his tongue.

“Wow.” Stiles sighed as he walked back into their room unabashedly naked, towelling his hair dry. “Is it my birthday? Because morning sex in bed, and a blowjob AND a rimjob in the shower...” Stiles winked at Derek as they started pulling on their clothes for the day.

“I don't know, I guess I just felt like spoiling you today.” Derek shrugged, his face, neck, and ears flushing red.

“Aww, baby, don't go getting embarrassed. It was amazing.” Stiles said, sidling up to Derek and winding his arms around Derek's waist. “I might just return the favour later on.”

*****

“Good morning, everyone.” Derek greeted as he and Stiles walked into the kitchen together.

“Morning.” Jackson nodded, sipping his coffee.

“Oh no you don't!” Derek intervened as Stiles went to pour himself a cup of coffee. Derek swiped it before Stiles could take his first fortifying sip and poured it down the sink. “No caffeine for you.”

Stiles pouted and looked at Jackson for support. Jackson shook his head and shrugged.

“Sucks for you, preggo.”

Derek watched in amusement as Stiles opened his mouth and shut it again in outrage.

“Fine. No caffeine for me until the babies are born.”

“Thank you.” Derek said, kissing Stiles on the forehead. “I know that this is going to be difficult, for both of us, at times, but—”

“I am carrying our children, Derek. It'll be so worth it.” Stiles said, leaning into Derek's chest.

“Where is everyone?” Derek asked Jackson.

“Cora, Malia, and Kira went out shopping with Lydia. Ethan and Parrish went for a run. The others are still asleep or, y'know, awake, but locked away in their rooms.”

“Theo and Timmy?” Derek winced.

“Yep.” Jackson confirmed. “I feel bad for Liam, honestly. Theo accepted his apology straight away, but he's just so mad at himself for how he acted last night. He's in the Bunker, smashing his demons.”

The Bunker was one of the renovated basements in the Hale House. They used it for anyone who was having a particularly difficult full moon or, as more often was the case, when Liam's IED needed venting. Sometimes Liam managed to calm himself down by doing yoga or knitting (Kira had taught him), and he was for the most part much better at controlling his anger, but sometimes all that could be done was letting him have a place that was safe (for him and for those around him), where could destroy whatever was in reach until he exhausted himself.

“How long’s he been down there?” Stiles asked.

“Since seven thirty this morning.”

Derek looked at his watch. It was now nearly ten o'clock.

“Yikes.”

“Yeah.”

“And nobody's heard from Scott at all?” Derek asked.

“No.” Jackson said, his lips pressing into a thin line. “His mom called last night and said he was crashing at their place, but that's it.”

The three of them made amicable conversation, while they waited for the rest of the pack to rise. Derek did the crossword while Stiles went online to register him and Derek for wedding gifts at Baby Gap.

A little while later, Liam came slouching silently into the room, sweating slightly and panting from exertion.

Derek watched Jackson silently pass him a grilled cheese for Theo with a silent, commiserating nod and a jerk of his head up the stairs. Liam replied in kind in thanks, and went upstairs.

He came back down without the plate and sat down at the kitchen counter to tuck in to his own grilled cheese sandwich, which Jackson had just slid across to him.

“How’s Theo?” Derek broached carefully, trying to gauge Liam's reaction.

Liam stiffened.

“Not good.” He said sullenly. “I managed to get him to come to bed late last night, but he doesn't want to get out of bed at all. He's just sat there, in the dark, staring at nothing. He turned down the food; I left it with him in case he changed his mind, but I doubt he'll eat it.” Liam frowned at Jackson in apology.

“It was a long shot.” Jackson shrugged.

“Thank you, though.” Liam said.

Jackson nodded in acceptance, then turned around as Parrish and Ethan came in through the patio doors, sweating from their run. Ethan approached his husband for a kiss, but Jackson darted out the way.

“Absolutely not. Not until you've hosed yourself off in the shower.”

Ethan thoroughly ignored him and placed a large wet kiss on Jackson's cheek, before shaking off his sweat all over him.

“Ugh, that is dis-GUSTING!! Remind me again why I married you?!” Jackson complained as he wiped his cheek.

“Because you're deeply in love with me, duh.” Ethan drawled. “Not to mention the fact that I am the _finest_ piece of ass you ever fu—”

“Hey! No profanities in front of the children!” Stiles scolded, pointing at his stomach.

“Whatever.” Ethan grinned, heading up the stairs, peeling off his shirt as he went.

Derek decided to bring Timmy some food. As with Theo, it probably wouldn't work, but he couldn’t see the harm in trying. Derek made his brother’s favourite (French toast with cinnamon sugar sprinkled on top) and put it on a breakfast tray, along with some strawberries and blueberries in a bowl. Stiles accompanied him upstairs.

It wasn't a pretty sight.

They carefully inched open the door open, trying to see whether or not he was awake without disturbing him. He was awake, but he looked like hell.

He was sat up in bed, still wearing the same clothes as he had been the night before. His hair was tangled from his restless sleep, all standing up on end. Derek noticed that he was also half-shifted; his fangs were jutting out past his lips, and his one working eye was glowing orange as he stared blankly at the wall opposite him. The thing that troubled Derek most, though, were the little droplets of blood on Timmy's sheets.

On closer inspection, Derek could see his little brother's claws puncturing into his skin where his arms were crossed over his knees, upon which he was resting his chin. There were also several new, deep scratches on the scarred side of his face, as if he'd scratched his face and had forgotten that he'd had his claws out.

“Hey bud.” Derek approached slowly, keeping himself in Tommy's line of vision. “We brought you some French toast if you're hungry.”

He saw Timmy's nose twitch, but he made no other move to accept the plate that Derek was handing out for him. Derek sighed and laid the breakfast tray next to his brother.

Derek gently took Timmy's hands and gently tried to dislodge the claws from where they were sticking into him. Stiles cleared his throat quietly to catch Derek's attention. He gestured discreetly from Timmy to the full-length mirror that used to hang on the wall, but now lay smashed to glittering pieces on the floor. Derek could see bloodied footprints around the debris and nodded, sighing gently to Stiles.

“Hey Tim, Derek's just going to move you a bit so I can see about getting the bits of glass out of your feet, okay bud?” Stiles encouraged gently.

Timmy nodded and allowed Derek to move him around, but he never spoke.

Derek sat behind Timmy so that he was leaning back into Derek's chest. Stiles held his cupped hands out in front of him, and Derek watched as the razor-sharp shards of broken mirror gently tugged themselves out of Timmy's feet and drifted gently into Stiles's cupped hands. Stiles took the broken pieces in his hands and walked over to where the empty mirror frame still hung on the wall. He gently blew the shards out of his hands and they, along with the rest of the fragments on the floor, flew back into the frame, restoring the mirror, good as new. Stiles took the newly repaired mirror off the wall and turned it around, leaning it against the wall.

“Right, that's dealt with, let's get you tidied up then, shall we?” Stiles clapped his hands lightly together, his voice full of false cheer.

The first thing that Stiles did was heal Timmy's feet. Then he had to get Derek to help undress Timmy's top half so that he could double-check for any more injuries. He healed the fresh claw puncture marks no problem, but Derek saw Stiles hesitate further down his arms. He held one of them up to show Derek, and Derek saw the long jagged scar running from the inside of his wrist to halfway towards his inner elbow, that must have caught Stiles very off-guard.

Derek set his jaw grimly and tapped the scar gently.

“Hey, Tim. When did this happen?” Derek tried to keep his voice airy, but evening to his own ears, it sounded false and unnatural.

“A few days after I escaped the Dread Doctors. I just didn't see the point anymore. They had taken _everything_ from me. They'd killed my son, I assumed they would've killed Theo too, and I refused to let them drag me back and subject me to more of their experiments. I'd rather have died.” Timmy said in a monotonous, bland voice. He finally managed to tear his staring gaze away from the wall and looked down to where Derek's finger was brushing along the length of the ugly scar.

“But you're still here.” Derek said.

“I am.” Timothy confirmed, cracking the tiniest of smiles and tilting his head backwards so that his bloody face looked up at his brother's. “Because if I was right, and Theo had died to make sure I escaped them, then I had to honour his sacrifice. I had to keep living.”

“I'm proud of you, Timothy.” Derek placed a firm kiss into the top of his brother's head. “You’re strong.”

“Thank you.” Timmy said, “But I don't always feel very strong.”

“Nobody feels strong all the time. Everybody feels weak at different times in their lives, but the people that love them are there to help them through.” Derek said assuredly.

Timmy nodded, and let Stiles turn his face towards him.

“How did this happen?” Stiles asked gently, turning his face from side to side delicately.

“The scar on my face was itchy, and I itched it. But I forgot my claws were out.” Timmy snorted in derision at his own stupidity. “I wasn't even thinking.”

“It happens to the best of us. These are going to scar though, they're too deep to not scar.” Stiles said, healing them over in a trice.

“Yeah, I figured as much.” Timmy sighed in resignation, tracing his fingers over the slash marks on the right side of his face, even further disfiguring him. “I should get up. I need to make sure Theo's okay, and I've got some stuff I need to go over before school tomorrow.”

“You still want to start school tomorrow?” Derek said incredulously.

“Not really, but there's always going to be a reason to keep putting it off and putting it off. I can’t avoid life forever.” Timmy sighed.

“Thank you both, for not letting me wallow.”

“No problem, Tim.”

“We’re family, it's what we do.” Stiles smiled.

*****

**Timmy's POV**

After Derek and Stiles had gone (Derek had refused point-blank to go until Timmy had at least eaten the strawberries and blueberries), Timmy grabbed a towel and headed for the bathroom town the hall.

He grimaced as he caught sight of his face in the mirror. There were red blotches on his face from tears that he hadn't bothered to wipe away, his eye was bloodshot, and then there were the new scars on his face, that ran nearly parallel to the knife-slash scar that had rendered his right eye blind, making it look almost as though it had been an animal that had robbed him of half of his vision, and not a highly trained soldier with a knife. That really was pathetically idiotic of him. The scar had been itching to the point where he couldn't ignore it, but he'd gone and scratched it _before_ retracting his claws! Idiot!

As he undressed, he forced his gaze to go to the scar on his belly from where the Dread Doctors had cut his and Theo's son out of him. He never looked at this scar if he could help it; it was just too brutal of a reminder of the _worst_ thing that had ever happened to him.

He forced thoughts of their lost baby from his mind and focussed on cleaning himself up, scrubbing hard at his skin until it was red and raw, trying to wash away the memories of last night, especially the expression that had been plastered on to Scott's face as he'd run away from him. Scott had _run away from him_. That had hurt more than he would’ve thought it could. It had honestly felt like all the wind had been knocked out of him.

He got dressed and tip-toed over to Theo's door.

“Hey, Theo? It's me. Can I come in?” Timmy said, knocking gently, before timidly opening the door to Theo and Liam's room when he received no answer.

All the lights were turned off and the curtains were shut, leaving the room in semi-darkness; Theo was wrapped up in blankets, only his face peeking out of them.

“Hey.” Timmy said as he sat down on the edge of the bed without asking for permission. He waited patiently for Theo to work his willpower up to emerge from his blanket cocoon.

Theo looked rubbish. His eyes were dim, with dark circles and bags underneath as though he hadn't slept in a week. His hair was messy (and not the carefully crafted deliberate mess that he usually achieved), and his five-o'clock shadow made his face look gaunt when coupled with the dark circles under his eyes.

“How are you doing?” Theo asked him, his voice croaking from lack of recent use. Theo sat up a little straighter in bed.

Timmy snorted humourlessly.

“Shit. You?”

“That about covers it.” Theo mumbled in agreement.

“He would've been three years old by now, or thereabouts.” Timmy sighed, moving to sit next to Theo, leaning against the headboard. “Probably would’ve been getting up to all sorts of mischief. Running us ragged.”

“Would've spoken his first words, taken his first steps...” Theo sighed, his voice hitching and cracking, ears slipping down his face.

They sat in silence for a while, neither of them knowing what they could say to make the situation seem better.

“I don't even know what to say to the pack.” Theo groaned in frustration. “They’re all going to be looking at me, and I can smell their pity from here.” He wrinkled his nose as if the smell was particularly offensive to him.

“Can you really blame them? They're your friends, Theo. They just want to be there for you. All you need to do is stop trying to push them away.”

“I've shouldered this for long enough, I don’t need their help with it.” Theo said meanly.

“As have I. We both pushed it down and down, but yesterday proved that going through it alone obviously hasn't been working. The dam broke, Theo. Stop putting your defences up around the people that love you.”

Theo sighed and seemed to deflate.

“I know you're right. But it's hard, after so long by yourself, you stop seeing the point in relying on other people.”

“Trust me, Theo,” Timmy turned his head and looked at him, “nobody knows that better than I do.”

“But we both have people now.”

“We do.” Timmy nodded.

“And we have each other?” Theo seeming almost unsure.

“Always, Theo.” Timmy smiled and wrapped his arms around Theo. Theo huffed a smile and hugged him back. As they pulled apart, Theo caught sight of his face.

“Hey. What happened here?” Theo turned the scarred side of Timmy's face towards him.

“Ugh, don't remind me. My face was itchy, and my claws were out.”

Theo let out a surprised bark of laughter.

“You’re kidding!” He chuckled in disbelief.

“No.” Timmy said. “My own idiocy surprises even me, sometimes.”

Theo laughed even more.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m clumsy as hell. Now do you fancy going downsta—”

Timmy was interrupted by a roar of outrage from downstairs.

“What the hell was that?” Timmy yelped in shock. He and Theo leaped off of the bed and ran to the stairs. Theo pulled Timmy back as they reached the bottom of the stairs and pressed a finger to his lips. Timmy nodded mutely, and they peered round the corner to listen in.

“Where the hell were you, McCall?!” Jackson yelled.

Timmy looked at Theo and raised his eyebrows in surprise. He'd never got the impression that Jackson cared all that much about Timmy. He'd certainly never said much to him.

Evidently, Scott was just as shocked by this outburst. He seemed to have just got back to the Hale House from wherever he'd gone last night. He stood just inside the patio doors, and was staring dumbfounded at Jackson, who was glaring at him. He quickly regained his composure though, and scowled back at Jackson. The other members of the pack were silently watching the exchange with bated breath.

“Not sure it's any of your business, Jax.” Scott said coolly.

Jackson and Scott squared up to each other.

“You’re probably right. It's not any of us that you should be explaining yourself to. It's that kid upstairs!” Jackson shouted, pointing an angry finger towards the stairs. Theo quickly pulled Timmy out of sight.

“Watch it, Jackson.” Scott said warningly, a low growl escaping his throat. “I left because I had to get away and sort a few things out in my head.”

“Bullshit! He needed you! After you left, he was a sobbing fucking wreck, it _broke_ him! How could you just leave him like that after what he'd told us?! He looks up to you, and he needed you to tell him that everything was okay! He needed you to comfort him! And you left! Who the hell do you think you are?” Jackson yelled into Scott's face.

“I'M YOUR ALPHA. THAT'S WHO I FUCKING AM.” Scott roared back at Jackson, his eyes flashing red dangerously.

Everyone could feel their eyes glowing in response to their Alpha. Jackson looked stonily back at Scott.

“That is true. And one of the reasons that you're a good Alpha is that you've never held that over our heads, or used it to win an argument.”

That stopped Scott in his tracks. He blinked rapidly at Jackson in surprise as Jackson looked angrily back at him.

“I’m sorry.”

“It's fine.” Jackson said, calming down slightly himself. “Look, I don't know what exactly your relationship with Timothy Hale is, but at the very least, he's your friend, and you weren't there for him, or indeed Theo, when they needed you most yesterday. That's all.” Jackson said, pointing back at the stairs to where Timmy and Theo were still listening in. Scott looked in that direction and caught sight of Theo and Timmy before they could duck back behind the wall.

“It's okay, guys. You can come out now.” Scott said wearily.

The rest of the pack seemed to notice them then as well, and shifted uncomfortably. Theo stiffened next to Timmy, and they stepped further into the room, looking sheepishly at the others.

“Sorry. It's just – we heard the shouting upstairs. We didn't mean to listen in.” Timmy said lamely.

“No it's fine.” Scott waved him down. “But I do owe you both an apology for disappearing like that last night. I was shocked to say the least, but it was selfish of me to act the way I did in that situation. I'm sorry that I wasn't there for the both of you.” Scott said sincerely, looking from Theo to Timmy.

“It’s fine.” Theo mumbled.

“Timmy?” Scott said, turning to the smaller of the two. “Are we okay?”

Timmy nodded and walked over to Scott, flinging his arms around his waist. Scott hugged him close to his chest and kissed his hair. Timmy leaned in to the warm heat of Scott's broad chest, feeling reassured by Scott's arms wrapped protectively and lovingly around him. Scott pulled back to give him a sweet kiss on the lips, but froze halfway through leaning in. He brushed Timmy's hair off his face, revealing the new scars on his face.

“Don’t worry!” Timmy said hurriedly, seeing the stricken look on Scott's face. “It was an accident. My scar was itchy, my claws are scratchy, and I forgot they were out. That's it. It was just ordinary clumsiness.”

“Wow.” Scott said sardonically, grinning as he looked down at his boyfriend. “You’re more clumsy than Stiles. And that, my dear, is saying quite a lot.”

“Hey!”

*****

The rest of the day passed without much incident, the only thing being that the pack was treading on eggshells around Timmy and Theo slightly, as if they might break.

They gritted their teeth through it and stuck it out though, because they knew that pity was going to be a natural response to what they'd been told the previous day, and they knew that the pack’s hearts were in the right place.

Timmy's Uncle Peter stopped by in the afternoon to give his nephew a hug and make sure he was okay, and to double-check that he knew what was happening the following morning, when he started at Beacon Hills High School.

“So Derek and I will drop you guys off in the morning tomorrow, slightly earlier than we would normally need to be, because the principal wants to have a meeting with you, Timmy, before you start your classes. She'll take you on a quick tour of the school and show you where things are, then she’ll take you to your homeroom class, which you share with Liam, Corey, and Mason. Okay?”

“Cool.” Timmy said, trying to digest the information. “My alarm clock's set already.”

“Good.” Peter said, nodding. “Now, I need to warn you. Tomorrow, there's going to be a lot of new smells, and noises, and it's going to feel quite overwhelming.”

“Right.” Timmy said.

“This is really normal. But you need to make sure that you have control of the shift. You can't go flashing your fangs and swiping your claws at anyone that annoys you or gives you a hard time, and if you think you find yourself losing control, just go find someone from the pack. Liam, Corey, and Mason will be in most of your classes, and Scott is the assistant coach for the lacrosse team, so he'll be around as well.”

“I'll be fine, Uncle Peter.” Timmy said indignantly. “I have control.”

“I know you do, short-stack.” Peter said in a placating voice. “Indeed, you have better control than a lot of supernaturals would do at your age, but things can always take you by surprise, and that’s when things can get messy.”

“Fine.” Timmy said, sighing. “I’ll be a good boy. No mauling the other students.”

“Or the teachers.” Peter added.

“Or the teachers.” Timmy confirmed, grinning.

“The teachers will already have been made aware that you're supernatural, and the students will probably guess as much themselves, so be prepared for kids asking you to show off and demonstrate.”

“Should I refuse?” Timmy asked. “I don't want to alienate myself or make a bad impression.”

Peter sighed.

“The principal understands that kids will be kids, and has acknowledged that it's okay for you to demonstrate your abilities for your classmates, as long as no-one gets hurt. But you are under no obligation to do so if you don't feel comfortable with it. Don't let the other students pressure you into it.” Peter said sternly.

“Okay.” Timmy nodded.

Dinner that night was a noisy and enjoyable affair. There was a toast to Derek and Stiles's pregnancy, and to Timmy starting school, and then they all tucked in to the sumptuous dinner of venison stew (Malia, Peter, Ethan, and Cora had caught the deer in the forest) with roasted sweet potatoes, served with roasted parsnips, carrots, green beans, and broccoli.

Liam and Mason scarpered off after dinner, needing to finish some last minute homework due the next day (which Corey, looking smug, had already completed). The rest of the pack milled around downstairs and helped tidy up before they all split up to do their own thing.  
Timmy decided to get a head-start and pack his new schoolbag for tomorrow, and get his first day of school outfit ready. The first took no more than five minutes or so, but the second proved more challenging. After twenty minutes of struggling and being no closer to having a completed outfit, he decided he needed help.

He knocked hesitantly on Mason and Corey's door and waited for it to open.

“Tim?” Mason opened the door, confused. “What's up?”

“I need help.” Timmy pleaded. “First day of school outfit. I’m desperate. Please.”

Mason’s eyes lit up excitedly.

“Fear not, young padawan. I got this.” Mason said.

He grabbed Timmy's arm and led him down the hall to another bedroom, knocking confidently on the wooden door. Jordan answered.

“Hey guys.”

“Hey, Jordan. Is Lydia in there?” Mason asked.

Lydia appeared promptly next to Parrish.

“What can I do for you two?”

“We need a fashion expert. Timmy needs a first day of school outfit.”

Without missing a beat, Lydia kissed Jordan on the cheek and slipped out the room, leading the two boys imperiously back to Timmy's room and ordering them into the walk-in wardrobe.

Lydia started examining the various items in the wardrobe, leaving Timmy and Mason to watch her silently.

“What are we going for, here? Are we trying to blend in, or do you want to stand out? What sort of impression do you want to make?” Lydia quizzed Tim, who spluttered unintelligibly in response. Mason jumped to his aid.

“Go for cute, fun, friendly chimaera-next-door.”

“Very well.” Lydia nodded, and started pulling down hangers and rummaging around in drawers. “Right. Timmy, take these, this, and these. Mason and I will wait outside while you get dressed.”

Without leaving time for either boy to argue, Lydia dumped a pile of clothes in Timmy’s arms, grabbed Mason's wrist and pulled him from the wardrobe, shutting the door afterwards.

Timmy tried on the pieces that Lydia had picked out: a white shirt, blue jeans, and beige v-neck sweater.

He walked out of the wardrobe and turned in a slow circle so that Mason and Lydia could see the outfit from all sides. They were both shaking their heads.

“Too ‘geek’, not enough ‘chic'.” Mason said.

“Agreed. Come on then, let's find some more stuff.”

This cycle continued for a while.

“No. It's too smart.”

“Absolutely not. He's a high school student, not a librarian!”

“Nuh-uh, it looks too edgy. Gives off an aggressive vibe.”

“Too plain. We don't want him blending in with the walls!”

Neither Mason not Lydia seemed at all disheartened; in fact, the more outfits that got rejected, the more their enthusiasm and determination seemed to grow (and the more Timmy regretted asking them to help him in the first place). 

It was now probably the tenth outfit he'd been made to try (honestly, Timmy had lost count). A pair of black skinny chinos, with a pair of red Converse sneakers, a white v-neck t-shirt, and an oversized blue denim jacket on top.

Timmy sighed as he showed them and waited for the inevitable rejection, but it didn't come. He looked at them and saw that they were both frowning and looking thoughtful.

“Hmmm, not bad.” Lydia said, impressed.

“Yeah. Looks casual, but cool at the same time.” Mason nodded fervently.

“Good colour combination.” Lydia thought aloud. “But it still looks a little incomplete.”

“Yeah. Something's missing.” Mason murmured thoughtfully. “Just needs a little something that set it off. An accessory or something. Wait here; I'll see if I can find something.”

Mason darted out the room, leaving Timmy and Lydia alone. Timmy felt slightly awkward and intimidated; Lydia was a formidable girl, cool and collected, but thankfully, Mason returned pretty quickly, and presented a cuff bracelet.

It was three attached lengths of red leather side-by-side, and was the sort of thing that you would wrap two or three times round one's wrist. The red colour of the leather matched the red Converse sneakers.

“Good work, Mason. That ties the shoes in to the overall ensemble.”

“You can keep that, Tim.” Mason gestured to the bracelet. “It wasn't expensive, and it never looked right on me.”

“Okay. Thanks.” Tim said, looking at himself in the mirror attached to the back of the wardrobe door.

“So, you happy with how this looks?” Lydia asked.

“Yeah, this looks good. Thanks for the help, guys.” Timmy said, pleased.

“You’re welcome.”

“No problem.”

Timmy laid in bed later that night, but try as he might, he couldn't seem to fall asleep, he just kept tossing and turning.

Eventually, he got frustrated and got out of bed.

As he walked back to his room with a glass of water, he noticed the light was still on under Scott's door. He knocked.

“Hey, Scott. I noticed the light was on under your door.” Timmy said when Scott opened the door, rubbing his eyes. “I didn't wake you up, did I?”

Scott was dressed in plaid pyjama trousers and a grey t-shirt.

“No, you didn't.” Scott smiled at him fondly. “I was just reading. You couldn't sleep?”

“No.” Timmy said sadly.

“Come on.” Scott said.

He took Timmy's hand and led him back to his room, shutting the door behind them.

“Uh, Scott? What—”

“Don’t worry, this isn’t for sex.” Scott chuckled quietly. “I just thought it might be easier for you to sleep if you had someone to cuddle.”  
Timmy fought to hide the blush that crept onto his face at the fact that Scott wanted to snuggle with him, but he reckoned he failed miserably.

“A-are... Are you okay with that too?”

“I wouldn't be here if I wasn't.” Scott reassured him, pulling back the covers and climbing into the bed. He patted the space in front of him and waited patiently for Timmy to get into bed, before he drew the covers back over them and pulled Timmy into his arms. He arranged them so that Timmy ended up lying half on the bed and half on top of Scott himself, with his head resting on Scott's chest like it was a pillow.

Timmy sighed in contentment as he and Scott snuggled closer together for warmth, Scott wrapping his arms around Timmy's skeletally thin waist and nuzzling his nose into Timmy's hair, breathing deeply.

“Thank you, Scott.” Timmy mumbled, as he felt himself being pulled gradually into the realm of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you guys think of this chapter?
> 
> I know that there was a lot of upsetting stuff in this chapter, so if any of you want to talk to me about that in the comments, please feel free. I promise that the next chapter is much happier and fluffier than this one.
> 
> Also, this was my first time writing a smut scene, so I hope it's okay.
> 
> As always, please leave comments and kudos! I love hearing your opinions on my work!


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